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BEYOND THE HORIZON 



PLAYS BY 

EUGENE G. O'NEILL 

THE MOON OF THE CARIBBEES 
AND Six Other Plays of the Sea 

CHRIS CHRISTOPHERSON 



BEYOND THE HORIZON 

A PLAY IN THREE ACTS 



BY 

EUGENE G. O'NEILL 




BONI AND LIVERIGHT 
PUBLISHERS NEW YORK 









Copyright, 1920, 
By BONI & LIVERIGHT. Inc. 



MAf^ 22 1920 



Printed in the United States of A merica 



0)CI.A565326 






TO AGNES 



ACT I 

Scene I : The Road. Sunset of a day in Spring. 
Scene II: The Farm House. The same night. 

ACT II 

(Three years later) 

Scene I : The Farm House. Noon of a Summer day. 

Scene II : The top of a hill on the farm overlooking the 
sea. The following day. 

ACT III 

(Five years later) 

Scene I: The Farm House. Dawn of a day in late 
FaU. 

Scene II: The Road. Sunrise, 



ACT I 



CHARACTERS 

James Mayo, a farmer 

Kate Mayo, his wife 

Captain Dick Scott, of the hark "SundaJ'' her brother 

Andrew IVIayo 



, sons of James Mayo 
Robert Mayo J 

Ruth Atkins, 

Mrs. Atkins, her widowed mother 

Mary, 

Ben, a farm hand 

Doctor Fawcett. 

{The "right" and "left" of the stage directions are the 
audience's.) 



ACT ONE 

SCENE ONE 

Scene — A section of country highway. The road 
runs diagonally from the left, forward, to the 
right, rear, and can he seen in the distance wind- 
ing toward the horizon like a pale ribbon between 
the low, rolling hills with their freshly plowed 
fields clearly divided from each other, checker- 
board fashion, by the lines of stone walls and 
rough snake fences. 

The forward triangle cut off by the road is a 
section of a field from the dark earth of which 
myriad bright-green blades of fall-sown rye are 
sprouting. A straggling line of piled rocks, too 
low to be called a wall, separates this field from 
the road. 

To the rear of the road is a ditch with a slop- 
ing, grassy bank on the far side. From the 
center of this an old, gnarled apple tree, just 
budding into leaf, strains its twisted branches 
heavenwards, black against the pallor of dis- 
tance. A snake-fence sidles from left to right 
1 



m^ 



BEYOND THE HORIZON 

along the top of the hank, passing beneath the 
apple tree. 

The hushed twilight of a day in May is jtist 
heginning. The horizon hills are still rimmed by 
a faint line of fame, and the sky above them 
glows with the crimson flush of the sunset. This 
fades gradually as the action of the scene 
progresses. 

At the rise of the curtain, Robert Mayo is 
discovered sitting on the fence. He is a tally 
slender young man of twenty-three. There is a 
touch of the poet about him expressed in his high 
forehead and wide, dark eyes. His features are 
delicate and refined, leaning to weakness in the 
mouth and chin. He is dressed in grey corduroy 
trousers pushed into high laced boots, and a blue 
fiannel shirt with a bright colored tie. He i» 
reading a book by the fading sunset light. He 
shuts this, keeping a finger in to mark the place, 
and turns his head toward the horizon, gazing 
out over the fields and hills. i/i« lips move as if 
he were reciting something to himself. 

His brother Andrew comes along the road 
from the right, returning from his work in the 
fields. He is twenty-seven years old, an opposite 
type to Robert — husky, sun-hronzed, handsome 
in a large-featured, manly fashion — a son of the 
soil, intelligent in a shrewd way, but with 710th- 
ing of the intellectuxd about him. He wears over- 
alls, leather boots, a grey fiannel shirt open at 



BEYOND THE HORIZON 3 

the neck, and a soft, mud-stained hat 'pushed hack 
on his head. He stops to talk to Robert, lean- 
ing on the hoe he carries. 

Andrew — [Seeing Robert has not noticed his 
presence — m a loud shout. Ji Hey there! [Robert 
turns with a start. Seeing zaho it is, he smiles.^ 
Gosh, jou do take the prize for day-dreaming ! And 
I see you've toted one of the old books along with 
you. Want to bust 3'our eyesight reading in this 
light? 

Robert — [Glancing at the book in his hand with a 
rather shamefaced air.] I wasn't reading — just then, 
Andy. 

Andrew — No, but 3'ou have been. Shucks, you 
never will get any sense, Rob. [He crosses the ditch 
and sits on the fence near his brother.] What is it 
this time — poetry, I'll bet. [He reaches for the 
book.] Let me see. 

Robert — [Handing it to him rather reluctantly.] 
Yes, it's poetr3\ Look out you don't get it full of 
dirt. 

Andrew — [Glancing at his hands.] That isn't dirt 
— it's good clean earth; but I'll be careful of the old 
thing. I just wanted to take a peep at it. [He turns 
over the pages.] 

Robert — [Slyly.] Better look out for youf eye- 
sight, Andy. 

Andrew — Huh! If reading this stuff was the 
only way to get blind, I'd see forever. [His eyes read 



4 BEYOND THE HORIZON 

something and he gives an exclamation of disgust.] 
Hump! [With a provoking grin at his brother he 
reads aloud in a doleful, sing-song voice.] " I have 
loved wind and light and the bright sea. But holy 
and most sacred night, not as I love and have loved 
thee." [He hands the book back.] Here! Take it 
and bury it. Give me a good magazine any time. 

Robert — [With a trace of irritation.] The Farm 
Journal ? 

Akdeew — Sure ; anything sensible. I suppose it's 
that year in college gave you a liking for that kind 
of stuff. . I'm darn glad I stopped with High School, 
or ma^'be I'd been crazy too. [He grins and slaps 
Robert on the back affectionately.] Imagine me 
reading poetry and plowing at the same time. The 
team'd run away, I'll bet. 

Robert — [Laughing.] Or picture me plowing. 
That'd be worse. 

Andrew — [Seriously.] Pa was right never to 
sick 3'^ou onto the farm. You surely were never cut 
out for a farmer, that's a fact, — even if j^ou'd never 
been took sick. [With concern.] Say, how'd you feel 
now, anyway.'* I've lost track of you. Seems as if I 
never did get a chance to have a talk alone with you 
these days, 'count of the work. But you're looking 
fine as silk. 

Robert — Why, I feel great — never better. 

Andrew — That's bully. You've surely earned it. 
You certainly had enough sickness in the old days to 
last you the rest of your life. 



BEYOND THE HORIZON 5 

Robert — A healthy animal like vou, you brute, 
can hardly understand what I went through — al- 
through you saw it. You remember — sick one day, 
and well the next — always weak — never able to last 
through a whole term at school 'til I was years behind 
everyone my age — not able to get in any games — 
it was hell! These last few years of comparative 
health have been heaven to me. 

Andrew — I know; they must have been. [After 
a pause.] You should have gone back to college last 
fall, like I know you wanted to. You're fitted for 
that sort of thing — just as I ain't. 

Robert — You know why I didn't go back, Andy. 
Pa didn't like the idea, even if he didn't say so; and 
I know he wanted the money to use improving the 
farm. And besides, I had pretty much all I cared for 
in that one year. I'm not keen on being a student, 
just because you see me reading books all the time. 
What I want to do now is keep on moving so that I 
won't take root in any one place. 

Andrew — Well, the trip you're leaving on to- 
morrow will keep j'ou moving all right. [At this men- 
tion of the trip they both fall silent. There is a pause. 
Finally Andrew goes on, awkwardly attempting to 
speak casually.] Uncle says you'll be gone three 
years. 

Robert — About that, he figures. 

Andrew — [Moodily.] That's a long time. 

Robert — Not so long when you come to consider 
it. You know the Sunda sails around the Horn for 



6 BEYOND THE HORIZON 

Yokohama first, and that's a long voyage on a sailing 
ship; and if we go to any of the other places Uncle 
Dick mentions — India, or Australia, or South Africa, 
or South America — they'll be long voyages, too. 

Andrew — You can have all those foreign parts 
for all of me. A trip to the port once in a wliile, or 
maybe down to New York a couple of times a year — 
that's all the travel I'm hankering after, [He looks 
down the road to the right.] Here comes Pa. [l^he 
noise of a team of horses commg slowly down the] 
road is heard, and a vian's voice urging them on. A: 
moment later James Mayo enters, driving the two 
weary horses which have been unhitched from the 
plow. He is his son Andrew over again in body and 
face — an Andrew sixty-five years old, with a short, 
square, white beard. He is dressed much the same as 
Andrew.] 

Mayo — [Checking his horses when he sees Ms sons.] 
Whoa there ! Hello boys ! What are j'ou two doin' 
there roostin' on the fence like a pair of hens.'' 

Robert — [Laughing.] Oh, just talking things 
over. Pa. 

Andrew — [With a sly wink.] Rob's trying to get 
me into reading poetry. He thinks my education's 
been neglected. 

Mayo — [Chuckling.] That's good! You kin go 
out and sing it to the stock at nights to put 'em to 
sleep. What's that he's got there — 'nother book.'' 
Good Lord, I thought you'd read every book there was 



BEYOND THE HORIZON 7 

in the world, Robert ; and here you go and finds 'nother 



one 



Robert — [With a smile.]i There's still a few left, 
Pa. 

Andrew — He's learning a new poem about the 
" bright sea " so he'll be all prepared to recite when 
he gets on the boat tomorrow. 

Mayo — [A bit rebuhingly.] He'll have plenty of 
time to be thinkin' 'bout the water in the next years. 
No need to bother 'bout it yet. 

Robert — [Gently.] I wasn't. That's just Andy's 
fooling. 

Mayo — [Changing the subject abruptly; turns to 
Andrew.] How are things lookin' up to the hill lot, 
Andy ? 

Andrew — [Enthusiastically.] Fine as silk for this 
early in the year. Those oats seem to be coming 
along great. 

Mayo — I'm most done plowin' up the old medder 
— figger I ought to have it all up by tomorrow noon ; 
then you kin start in with the harrowin'. 

Andrew — Sure. I expect I'll be through up above 
by then. There ain't but a little left to do. 

Mayo — [To the restive team.] Wlioa there! 
You'll get your supper soon enough, you hungry 
critters. [Turning again to Andrew.] It looks like 
a good year for us, son, with fair luck on the weather 
— even if it's hard tucker gettin' things started. 

Andrew — [With a grin of satisfaction.] I can 



8 BEYOND THE HORIZON 

stand mj share of the hard work, I guess — and then 
some. 

Mayo — That's the -way to talk, son. Work never 
done a man harm yet — leastways, not work done out 
in the open. [Robert has been trying to pretend an 
interest in their conversation, but he can't help show- 
ing that it bares him. Andrew notices this.] 

Andrew — But farming ain't poetry, is it, Rob.'* 
[Robert smiles but remains silent.] 

^L\YO — [Seriouslij.] There's more satisfaction in 
the earth than ever was in any book; and Robert'll 
find it out sooner or later. [A tw^inlile comes into his 
eyes.] When he's grown up and got some sense. 

Robert — [Whimsically.] I'm never going to grow 
up — if I can help it. 

Mayo — Time'll tell. Well, I'll be movin' along 
home. Don't you two stay gossipin' too long. [He 
Tcinlis at Robert.] 'Specially you, Andy. Ruth and 
her Maw is comin' to supper, and you'd best be 
hurryin' to wash up and put on your best Sunday-go- 
to-meetin' clothes. [He laughs. Robert's face con- 
tracts as if he iccre icincing at some pain, but he 
forces a smile. Andrew grows confused and casts a 
quick side glance at his brother.] 

Andrew — I'll be along in a minute. Pa. 

Mayo — And you, Robert, don't you stay raoonin' 
at the sky longer'n is needful. You'll get lots o' time 
for that the next three years you're out on the sea. 
Remember this is your last night to home, and you've 
got to make an early start tomorrow, [He hesitates. 



BEYOND THE HORIZON 9 

then finishes earnestly] 'n' your Ma'll be wantin' to see 
all she kin o' you the little time left. 

Robert — I'm not forgetting, Pa. I'll be home 
right away. 

]Mayo — That's right. I'll tell your Maw you're 
acomiu'. [He chucks to the horses.] Giddap, old 
bones! Don't you want no supper tonight? {The 
horses xcalk off, and he folloivs them. There is a 
pause. AxDKEW and Robert sit silently, without 
looking at each other.] 

Andrew — {After a xchile.] Ma's going to miss you 
a lot, Rob. 

Robert — Yes — and I'll miss her, 

Andrew — And Pa ain't feeling none too happy 
to have you go — though he's been trying not to 
show it. 

Robert — I can see how he feels. 

Andrew — And you can bet that I'm not giving 
any cheers about it. \He puts one hand on the fence 
near Robert.] 

Robert — [Putting one hand on top of Andrew's 
•with a gesture almost of shyness.] I know that too, 
Andy. 

Andrew — I'll miss yon as much as anybody, I 
guess. I know how lonesome the old place was winter 
before last when you was away to college — and even 
then you used to come home once in a while ; but this 
time {He stops suddenly.] 

Robert — Let's not think about it — 'til afterward. 
We'll only spoil this last night if we do. 



10 BEYOND THE HORIZON 

Andrew — That's good advice. [But after a pause, 
he returns to the subject again.] You see, you and I 
ain't like most brothers — always fighting and sep- 
arated a lot of the time, while we've always been 
together — just the two of us. It's different with us. 
That's why it hits so hard, I guess. 

Robert — [With feeling.] It's just as hard for me, 
Andy — ^believe that ! I hate to leave you and the old 
folks — ^but — I feel I've got to. There's something 

calling me [He points to the horizon] calling to 

me from over there, beyond and I feel as if 

no matter what happens Oh, I can't just explain 

it to you, Andy. 

Andrew — No need to, Rob. [Angry at himself.] 
You needn't try to explain. It's aU just as it ought 
to be. Hell ! You want to go. You feel you ought 

to, and you got to ! that's all there is to it ; and 

I wouldn't have you miss this chance for the world. 

Robert — It's fine of you to feel that way, Andy. 

Andrew — Huh! I'd be a nice son-of-a-gun if I 
didn't, wouldn't 1? When I know how you need this 
sea trip to make a new man of you — in the body, I 
mean — and give you your full health back. 

Robert — [A trifle impatiently.] All of you seem 
to keep harping on my health. You were so used to 
seeing me lying around the house in the old days that 
you never will get over the notion that I'm a chronic 
invalid, and have to be looked after like a baby all 
the time, or wheeled round in a chair like Mrs. Atkins. 
You don't realize how I've bucked up in the past few 



BEYOND THE HORIZON 11 

years. Why, I bet right now I'm just as healthy as 
you are — I mean just as sound in wind and limb ; and 
if I was staying on at the farm, I'd prove it to you. 
You're suffering from a fixed idea about my delicate- 
ness — and so are Pa and Ma. Every time I've offered 
to help, Pa has stared at me as if he thought I was 
contemplating suicide. 

Andrew — [Conciliatingli/.] Nobody claimed the 
undertaker was taking your measurements. All I 
was saying was the sea trip would be bound to do 
anybody good. 

Robert — If I had no other excuse for going on 
Uncle Dick's ship but just my health, I'd stay right 
here and start in plowing. 

Andrew — Can't be done. No use in your talking 
that way, Rob. Farming ain't your nature. There's 
all the difference shown in just the way us two feel 
about the farm. I like it, all of it, and you — well, 
you like the home part of it, I expect ; but as a place 
to work and grow things, you hate it. Ain't that 
right? 

Robert — Yes, I suppose it is. I've tried to take 
an interest but — well, you're the Mayo branch of the 
family, and I take after Ma and Uncle Dick. It's 
natural enough when you come to think of it. The 
Mayos have been farmers from way back, while the 
Scotts have been mostly sea-faring folks, with a school 
teacher thrown in now and then on the woman's side — 
just as Ma was before her marriage. 

Andrew — You do favor Ma. I remember she used 



12 BEYOND THE HORIZON 

always to have her nose in a book when I was a kid; 
but she seems to have given it up of late years. 

Robert — [With a trace of bitterness.] The farm 
has claimed her in spite of herself. That's what I'm 
afraid it might do to me in time; and that's why I 
feel I ought to get away. [Fearing he has hurt 
Andrew's feelings.] You musn't misunderstand me, 
Andy. For you it's a different thing. You're a 
Mayo through and through. You're wedded to the 
soil. You're as much a product of it as an ear of 
corn is, or a tree. Father is the same. This farm is 
his life-work, and he's happy in knowing that another 
Mayo, inspired by the same love, will take up the 
work where he leaves off. I can understand your atti- 
tude, and Pa's ; and I think it's wonderful and sincere. 
But I — well, I'm not made that way. 

Andrew — No, you ain't; but when it comes to 
understanding, I guess I realize that you've got your 
own angle of looking at things. 

Robert — [Musingly.] I wonder if you do, really. 

Andrew — [Confidently.] Sure I do. You've seen 
a bit of the world, enough to make the farm seem 
small, and you've got the itch to see it all. 

Robert — It's more than that, Andy. 

Andrew — Oh, of course. I know you're going to 
learn navigation, and all about a ship, so's you can 
be an officer. That's natural, too. There's fair pay 
in it, I expect, when you consider that you've always 
got a home and grub thrown in ; and if you're set on 



BEYOND THE HORIZON 13 

travelling, you can go anywhere you're a mind to, 
without pajMng fare. 

Robert — [With a smile that is half-sad.] It's 
more than that, Andy. 

Andrew — Sure it is. There's always a chance of 
a good thing coming your way in some of those for- 
eign ports or other. I've heard there are great oppor- 
tunities for a young fellow with his eyes open in some 
of those new countries that are just being opened up. 
And with your education you ought to pick up the 
language quick. [Joviallz/.] I'll bet that's what 
you've been turning over in your mind under all your 
quietness ! [He slaps his brother on the back with a 
laugh.] Well, if you get to be a millionaire all of a 
sudden, call 'round once in a while and I'll pass the 
plate to you. We could use a lot of money right here 
on the farm without hurting it any. 

Robert — [Forced to laugh.] I've never considered 
that practical side of it for a minute, Andy. [As 
Andrew^ looJiS incredulous.] That's the truth. 

Andrevv' — Well, you ought to. 

Robert — No, I oughtn't. You're trying to wish 
an eye-for-business on me I don't possess. [Pointing 
to the horizon — dreamily.] Supposing I was to tell 
you that it's just Beauty that's calling me, the beauty 
of the far off* and unknown, the mystery and spell of 
the East, which lures me in the books I've read, the 
need of the freedom of great wide spaces, the joy of 
wandering on and on — in quest of the secret which 
is hidden just over there, beyond the horizon.'^ Sup- 



14 BEYOND THE HORIZON 

pose I told you that was the one and only reason for 
my going? 

Andrew — I should say you were nutty. 

RoBEET — Then I must be — because it's so. 

Andrew — I don't believe it. You've got that idea 
out of your poetry books. A good dose of sea-sickness 
will get that out of your system. 

Robert — [FroTmiing.] Don't, Andy. I'm serious. 

Andrew — Then you might as well stay right here, 
because we've got all you're looking for right on this 
farm. There's wide space enough, Lord knows; and 
you can have all the sea you want by walking a mile 
down to the beach; and there's plenty of horizon to 
look at, and beauty enough for anyone, except in the 
winter. [He grins.] As for the mystery and spell, 
and other things you mentioned, I haven't met 'em 
yet, but they're probably lying around somewheres. 
I'll have you understand this is a first class farm 
with all the fixings. [He laughs.] 

Robert — [Joining in the laughter in spite of him- 
self.] It's no use talking to you, you chump! 

Andrew — Maybe; but you'll see I'm right before 
you've gone far. You're not as big a nut as you'd 
like to make out. You'd better not say anything to 
Uncle Dick about spells and things when you're on 
the ship. He'll likely chuck you overboard for a 
Jonah. [He jumps down from fence.] I'd better run 
along. I've got to wash up some as long as Ruth's 
Ma is coming over for supper. 

Robert — [Pointedly — almost bitterly.] And Ruth. 



BEYOND THE HORIZON 15 

Andrew — [Confuted — looking- everywhere except 
at Robert — trying to appear unconcei'ned.\ Yes, 
Pa did say she was staying too. Well, I better hustle, 

I guess, and [He steps over the ditch to the road 

while he is talking.] 

Robert — [Who appears to be fighting some strong 
inward emotion — impulsively.] Wait a minute, Andy ! 
[He jumps down from the fence. ] There is something 

I want to [He stops abruptly, biting his lips, 

his face coloring.] 

Andrew — [Facing him; half -defiantly.] Yes? 

Robert — [Confusedly.] No never mind ' 

it doesn't matter, it was nothing. 

Andrew — [After a pause, during which he stares 
fixedly at Robert's averted face.] Maybe I can 

guess what you were going to say but I 

guess you're right not to talk about it. [He pulls 
Robert's hand from his side and grips it tensely; the 
two brothers stand looking into each other's eyes for 
a minute.] We can't help those things, Rob. [He 
turns away, suddenly releasing Robert's hand.] 
You'll be coming along shortly, won't you.'' 

Robert — [Dully.] Yes. 

Andrew — See you later, then. [He walks off down 
the road to the left. Robert stares after him for a 
moment; then climbs to the fence rail again, and looks 
out over the hills, an expression of deep grief on his 
face. After a monunt or so, Ruth enters hurriedly 
from the left. She is a healthy, blonde, out-of-door 
girl of twenty, with a graceful, slender figure. Her 



16 BEYOND THE HORIZON 

face, though inclined to roundness, is undeniably 
pretty, its large eyes of a deep blue set off strikingly 
by the sun-bronzed complexion. Her small, regular 
features are marked by a certain strength — an under- 
lying, stubborn fixity of purpose hidden in the 
frankly- appealing charm of her fresh youthfulness. 
She wears a simple white dress but no hat.] 

Ruth — [Seeing him.] Hello, Rob! 

Robert — [Startled.] Hello, Ruth! 

Ruth — [Jumps the ditch and perches on the fence 
beside him.] I was looking for you. 

Robert — [Pointedly.] Andy just left here. 

Ruth — I know. I met him on the road a second 
ago. He told me you were here. [Tenderly playful.] 
I wasn't looking for Andy, Smarty, if that's what 
you mean. I was looking for you. 

Robert — Because I'm going away tomorrow? 

Ruth — Because your mother was anxious to have 
you come home and asked me to look for you. I just 
wheeled Ma over to your house. 

Robert — [Perfunctorily.] How is your mother? 

Ruth — [A shadow coming over her face.] She's 
about the same. She never seems to get any better or 
any worse. Oh, Rob, I do wish she'd pick up a little 

or or try to make the best of things that can't 

be helped. 

Robert — Has she been nagging at you again? 

Ruth — [Nods her head, and then breaks forth 
rebelliously .] She never stops nagging. No matter 
what I do for her she finds fault. She's growing more 



BEYOND THE HORIZON 17 

irritable every day. Oh, Rob, you've no idea how hard 
it is living there alone with her in that big lonely 
house. It's enough to drive anyone mad. If only 

Pa was still living [She stops as if ashamed of 

her outburst.] I suppose I shouldn't complain this 
way. I wouldn't to any one but you. [She sighs.] 
Poor Ma, Lord knows it's hard enough for her — hav- 
ing to be wheeled around in a chair ever since I was 
born. I suppose it's natural to be cross when you're 
not able ever to walk a step. But why should she be 
in a temper with me all the time? Oh, I'd like to be 
going away some place — like you! 

Robert — It's hard to stay — and equally hard to 
go, sometimes. 

Ruth — There ! If I'm not the stupid body ! I 
swore I wasn't going to speak about your trip — 
until after you'd gone; and there I go, first thing! 

RoBKRT — Why didn't you want to speak of it.'' 

Ruth — Because I didn't want to spoil this last 
night you're here. Oh, Rob, I'm going to — we're all 
going to miss you so awfully. Your mother is going 
around looking as if she'd burst out crying any 
minute. You ought to know how I feel. Andy and 
you and I — why it seems as if we'd always been 
together. 

Robert — [With a wry attempt at a smile.] You 
and Andy will still have each other. It'll be harder 
for me without anyone. 

Ruth — But you'll have new sights and new people 
to take your mind off; while we'll be here with the 



18 BEYOND THE HORIZON 

old, familiar place to remind us every minute of the 
day. It's a shame you're going — just at this time, 
in spring, when everything is getting so nice. [With 
a sigh.] I oughtn't to talk that way when I know 
going's the best thing for you — on account of your 
health. The sea trip's bound to do you so much 
good, everyone says. 

Robert — [Wih a half-resentful grimac] Don't 
tell me you think I'm a hopeless invalid, too! I've 
heard enough of that talk from the folks. Honestly, 
Ruth, I feel better than I ever did in my life. I'm 
disgustingly healthy. I wouldn't even consider my 
health an excuse for this trip. 

Ruth — [Vaguely.] Of course you're bound to find 
all sorts of opportunities to get on, your father say^. 

Robert — [Heatedly.] I don't give a dartin about 
that ! I wouldn't take a voyage across the road for 
the best opportunity in the world of the kind Pa 
thinks of. I'd run away from it instead. [He smiles 
at his own irritation.] Excuse me, Ruth, for getting 
worked up over it ; but Andy gave me an overdose of 
the practical considerations. 

RiTTH — [Slotc^y puzzled.] Well, then, if it isn't 

any of those reasons [With sudden intensity.] 

Oh, Rob, wh}^ do you want to go ? 

Robert — [Turning to her quickly, in surprise — 
slowly.] Why do you ask that, Ruth? 

Ruth — [Dropping her eyes before his searching 

glance.] Because [Lamely.] It seems such a 

shame. 



BEYOND THE HORIZON 19 

Robert — [Insistentli/. ] Why ? 

Ruth — Oh, because — everything. 

Robert — I could hardly back out now, even if I 
wanted to. And I'll be forgotten before you know it. 

Ruth — [Indignantly.^ You won't! I'll never for- 
get [She stops and turns away to hide her con- 
fusion. \ 

Robert — [Softly. \ Will you promise me that? 

Ruth — [Evasively.] Of course. It's mean of you 
to think that any of us would forget so easily. 

Robert — [Disappointedly.] Oh! 

Ruth — [With an attempt at lightness.] But you 
haven't told me your reason for leaving yet? Aren't 
you going to? 

Robert — [Moodily.] I doubt if you'll understand. 
It's difficult to explain, even to m^J^self. It's more an 
instinctive longing that won't stand dissection. Either 
you feel it, or you don't. The cause of it all is in the 
blood and the bone, I guess, not in the brain, although 
imagination plays a large part in it. I can remember 
being conscious of it first when I was only a kid — 
you haven't forgotten what a sickly specimen I was 
then, in those days, have you? 

Ruth — [With a shudder.] They're past. Let's 
not think about them. 

Robert — You'll have to, to understand. Well, in 
those days, when Ma was fixing meals, she used to 
get me out of the way by pushing my chair to the 
west window and telling me to look out and be quiet. 
That wasn't hard. I guess I was alwaj'^s quiet. 



20 BEYOND THE HORIZON 

Ruth — {Compassionately.^ Yes, you always were 
— and you suffering so much, too ! 

Robert — [Musingly.^ So I used to stare out over 
the fields to the hills, out there — [He 'points to the 
horizon^ and somehow after a time I'd forget any 
pain I was in, and start dreaming. I knew the sea 
was over beyond those hills, — the folks had told me — 
and I used to wonder what the sea was like, and try 
to form a picture of it in my mind. {With a smile.^ 
There was all the mystery in the world to me then 
about that — far-off sea — and there still is ! It called 
to me then just as it does now. {After a slight 
pause. ^ And other times my eyes would follow this 
road, winding off into the distance, toward the hills, 
as if it, too, was searching for the sea. And I'd 
promise myself that when I grew up and was strong, 
I'd follow that road, and it and I would find the sea 
together. {With a smile. ^ You see, my making this 
trip is only keeping that promise of long ago. 

Ruth — {Charmed by his low, musical voice telling 
the dreams of his childhood.] Yes, I see. 

Robert — Those were the only happy moments of 
my life then, dreaming tliere at the window. I liked 
to be all alone — those times. I got to know all the 
different kinds of sunsets by heart — the clear ones 
and the cloudy ©nes, and all the color schemes of their 
countless variations — although I could hardly name 
more than three or four colors correctly. And all 
those sunsets took place over there — {He points] 
beyond the horizon. So gradually I came to believe ^ 



BEYOND THE HORIZON ^1 

that all the wonders of the world happened on the 
other side of those hills. There was the home of the 
good fairies who performed beautiful miracles. [He 
smiles.] I believed in fairies then, although I suppose 
I ought to have been ashamed of it from a boy's 
standpoint. But you know how contemptuous of all 
religion Pa's always been — even the mention of it in 
the house makes him angry. 

Ruth — Yes. [Wearilp.] It's just the opposite 
to our house. 

Robert — He'd bullied Ma into being ashamed of 
believing in anything and he'd forbidden her to teach 
Andy or me. There wasn't much about our home but 
the life on the farm. I didn't like that, so I had to 
believe in fairies. [With a smile.] Perhaps I still do 
believe in them. Anyway, in those days they were real 
enough, and sometimes — I suppose the mental science 
folks would explain it by self-hypnosis — I could 
actually hear them calling to me in soft whispers to 
come out and play with them, dance with them down 
the road in the dusk in a game of hide-and-seek to 
find out where the sun was hiding himself. They sang 
their little songs to me, songs that told of all the 
wonderful things they had in their home on the other 
side of the hills ; and they promised to show me all of 
them, if I'd only come, come ! But I couldn't come 
then, and I used to cry sometimes and Ma would 
think I was in pain. [He breaks off suddenly with a 
lavgh.] That's why I'm going now, I suppose. For 
I can still hear them calling, although I'm a man and 



22 BEYOND THE HORIZON 

have seen the other side of many hills. But the 
horizon is as far away and as luring as ever. [He 
turns to her — softly.] Do you understand now, Ruth.'' 

Ruth — [Spellbound, in a whisper.] Yes. 

Robert — You feel it thcii.'^ 

Ruth — Yes, yes, I do ! [ Unconsciously she snug- 
gles close against his side. His arm steals about her 
as if he were not aware of the action.] Oh, Rob, how 
could I help feeling it.? You tell things so beauti- 
fully! 

Robert — [Suddenly realizing that his arm is 
around her, and that her head is resting on his 
shoulder, gently takes his arm away. Ruth, 
brought back to herself, is overcome with confusion.] 
So now you know why I'm going. It's for that 
reason — that and one other. 

Ruth — You've another? Then 3'ou must tell me 
that, too. 

Robert — [^Looking at her searchingly. She drops 
her eyes before his gaze.^ I wonder if I ought 
to. I wonder if 3'^ou'd really care to hear it — if you 
knew. You'll promise not to be angry — whatever 
it is.? 

Ruth — [Softly, her face still averted.] Yes, I 
promise. 

Robert — [Simply.] I love you. That's the other 
reason. 

Ruth — [Hiding her face in her hands.] Oh, Rob! 

Robert — You must let me finish now I've begun. 
I wasn't going to tell you, but I feel I have to. It 



BEYOND THE HORIZON 2S 

can't matter to jou now that I'm going so far away, 
and for so long — perhaps forever. I've loved you 
all these years, but the realization of it never came to 
me 'til I agreed to go away with Uncle Dick. Then 
I thought of leaving you, and the pain of that thought 
revealed the truth to me in a flash — that I loved you, 
had loved you as long as I could remember. [He 
gently pulls one of Ruth's hands away from her 
face.] You musn't mind my telling you this, Ruth. 
I realize how impossible it all is — and I understand; 
for the revelation of my own love seemed to open my 
eyes to the love of others. I saw Andy's love for you 
— and I knew that you must love him. 

Ruth — [Breaking out stormily.] I don't! I don't 
love Andy ! I don't ! [Robert stares at her in stupid 
astonishment. Ruth weeps hysterically.] Whatever 

-put such a fool notion into — into your head? [She 
suddenly throws her arms about his neck and hides her 
head on his shoulder.] Oh, Rob! Don't go away! 
Please I You mustn't, now ! You can't ! I won't let 
you ! It'd break my — my heart ! 

Robert — [The expression of stupid bewilderment 
giving way to one of overwhelming joy. He presses 
her close to him — slowly and tenderly.] Do you mean 
that — that you love me? 

Ruth — [Sobbing.] Yes, yes — of course I do — 
what d'you s'pose? [She lifts up her head and looks 
into his eyes with a tremulous smile.] You stupid 
thing! [He kisses her.] I've loved you right along. 



24. BEYOND THE HORIZON 

Robert — [Mystified.] But you and Andy were 
always together ! 

Ruth — Because you never seemed to want to go 
any place with me. You were always reading an old 
book, and not paying any attention to me. I was 
too proud to let you see I cared because I thought the 
year you had away to college had made you stuck-up, 
and you thought yourself too educated to waste any 
time on me. 

Robert — [Kissing her.] And I was thinking 

[With a laugh.] What fools we've both been! 

Ruth — [Overcome hy a sudden fear.] You won't 
go away on the trip, will you, Rob ? You'll tell them 
you can't go on account of me, won't you? You can't; 
go now ! You can't ! 

Robert — [Bewildered.] Perhaps — you can come 
too. 

Ruth — Oh, Rob, don't be so foolish. You know 
I can't. Who'd take care of Ma.'* She has no one ini 
the world but me. I can't leave her — the way she is. 
It'd be different if she was well and healthy like other 
people. Don't you see I couldn't go — on her account ? 

Robert — [Vaguely.] I could go — and then send 
for you both — when I'd settled some place out there. 

Ruth — Ma never could. She'd never leave the 
farm for anything ; and she couldn't make a trip any- 
where 'til she got better — if she ever does. And oh 
Rob, I wouldn't want to live in any of those out 
landish places you were going to. I couldn't stanc 
it there, I know I couldn't — not knowing anyone. H 



BEYOND THE HORIZON S5 

makes me afraid just to think of it. I've never been 
away from here, hardly and — I'm just a home body, 
I'm afraid. [She clings to him imploringly. \ Please 
don't go — not now. Tell thfcm you've decided not to. 
They won't mind. I know your mother and father'll 
be glad. They'll all be. They don't want you to go 
so far away from them. Please, Rob! We'll be so 
happy here together where it's natural and we know 
things. Please tell me you won't go ! 

Robert — [Face to face with a definite, final deci- 
sion, betrays the convict going on within him,\ But 
—Ruth— I— Uncle Dick 

Ruth — He won't mind when he knows it's for your 
happiness to stay. How could he,'' [As Robert 
remains silent she bursts into sobs agabi.] Oh, Rob! 
And you said — you loved me ! 

Robert — [Conquered by this appeal — an iri'evo- 
cable decision in his voice.] I won't go, Ruth. I 
promise you. There! Don't cry! [He presses her 
to him, stroking her hair tenderly. After a pause he 
speaks with happy hopefulness.] Perhaps after all 
Andy was right — righter than he knew — when he 
said I could find all the things I was seeking for here, 
at home on the farm. The mystery and the wonder — 
our love should bring them home to us. I think love 
must have been the secret — the secret that called to 
me from over the world's rim — the secret beyond every 
horizon; and when I did not come, it came to me. 
[He clasps Ruth to him fiercely.] Oh, Ruth, you 



26 BEYOND THE HORIZON 

are right ! Our love is sweeter than any dista] 
dream. It is the meaning of all life, the whole worL 
The kingdom of heaven is within — us! \^He kissi 
her passionately and steps to the ground, lifting 
Ruth in his arms and carrying her to the road where 
he puts her down.^ 

Ruth — {With a happy laugh.] My, but you're 
strong ! 

Robert — Come! We'll go and tell them at once. 

Ruth — [Dismayed.l Oh, no, don't, Rob, not 'til 
after I've gone. Then you can tell your folks and I'll 
tell Ma when I get her home. There'd be bound to be 
such a scene with them all together. 

Robert — [Kissing her — gaily.] As you like- 
little Miss Common Sense! ' 

Ruth — Let's go, then. [She takes his hand, and 
they start to go off left. Robert suddenly stops and 
turns as though for a last look at the hills and the 
dying sunset push.] 

Robert — [Looking upward and pointing.] See!, 
The first star. [He bends down and kisses her ten- 
derly.] Our star! 

Ruth — [In a soft murmur.] Yes. Our very owr 
star. [They stand for a moment looking up at it, 
their arms around each other. Then Ruth takes his, 
hand again and starts to lead him away.] Come, Rob, 
let's go. [His eyes are fixed again on the horizon at 
he half turns to follow her. Ruth urges.] We'll be 
late for supper, Rob. 



BEYOND THE HORIZON 27 

Robert — [Shakes his head impatiently/, as though 
he were throwing off some disturbing thought — with 
a laugh.] All right. We'll run then. Come on! 
[They run off laughing as 

[The Curtain Falls] 



ACT ONE 

SCENE TWO 

Scene — The sitting room of the Mayo farm house 
about nine o'clock the same night. On the left, 
two windows loobing out on the fields. Against 
the xvall between the windows, an old-fashioned 
walnut deslc. In the left corner, rear, a sideboard 
with a mirror. In the rear wall to the right of 
the sideboard, a window looking out on the road. 
Next to the window a door leading out into the 
yard. Farther right, a black horse-hair sofa, and 
another door opening on a bedroom. In the cor- 
ner, a straight-backed chair. In the right wall, 
near the middle, an open doorway leading to the 
kitchen. Farther forward a double-heater stove 
with coal scuttle, etc. In the center of the newly 
carpeted floor, an oak dining-room table zvifh a 
red cover. In the center of the table, a large all 
reading lamp. Four chairs, three rockers with 
crocheted, tidies on their backs, and one straight- 
backed, are placed about the table. The walls 
are papered a dark red with a scr oily-figured 
pattern. 

Everything in the room is clean, well-kept, and 
28 



BEYOND THE HORIZON 29 

in its exact place, yet there is no suggestion of 
primness about the whole. Rather the atmosphere 
is one of the orderly comfort of a simple, hard- 
earned prosperity, enjoyed and maintained by 
the family as a unit. 

James Mayo, his wife, her brother. Captain 
Dick Scott, aiid Andrew are discovered. Mrs. 
Mayo is a slight, round-faced, rather prim-look- 
ing woman of ffty-five who had once been a 
school teacher. The labors of a farmer's wife 
have bent but not broken her, and she retains a 
certain refinement of movement and expression 
foreign to the Mayo part of the family. What- 
ever of resemblance Robert has to his parents 
may be traced to her. Her brother, the Captain, 
is short ajid stocky, with a weather-beaten, jovial 
face and a white moustache — a typical old salt, 
loud of voice and given to gesture. He is fifty- 
eight years old. 

James Mayo sits in front of the table. He 
wears spectacles, and a farm journal which he 
has been reading lies in his lap. The Captain 
leans forward from a chair in the rear, his hands 
on the table in front of him. Andrew is tilted 
back on the straight-backed chair to the left, his 
chin sunk forward on his chest, staring at the 
carpet, preoccupied and frowning. 

As the Curtain rises the Captain is just finish- 
ing the relation of some sea episode. The others 



30 BEYOND THE HORIZON 

are pretending an interest which is belied hy the 
absent-minded expressions on their faces. 

The Captain — [Chuckling.] And that mission 
woman, she hails me on the dock as I was acomin' 
ashore, and she sajs — with her silly face all screwed 
up serious as judgment — "Captain," she says, "would 
you be so kind as to tell me where the sea-gulls sleeps 
at nights ? " Blow me if them warn't her exact words ! 
{He slaps the table with the palm of his hands and 
laughs loudly. The others force smiles.] Ain't that 
just like a fool woman's question? And I looks at her 
serious as I could, " Ma'm," says I, " I couldn't 
rightly answer that question. I ain't never seed a 
sea-gull in his bunk yet. The next time I hears one 
snorin'," I says, " I'll make a note of where he's turned 
in, and write you a letter 'bout it." And then she 
calls me a fool real spiteful and tacks away from me 
quick. [He laughs again uproariously.] So I got 
rid of her that way. [The others smile but immediately 
relapse into expressions of gloom again.] 

Mrs. Mayo — [Absent-mindedly — feeling that she 
has to say something.] But when it comes to that, 
where do sea-gulls sleep, Dick.^* 

Scott — [Slapping the table.] Ho! Ho! Listen to 
her, James. 'Nother one! Well, if that don't beat 
all hell — 'scuse me for cussin', Kate. 

Mayo — [With a twinkle in his eyes.] They unhitch 
their wings, Katey, and spreads 'em out on a wave 
for a bed. 



BEYOND THE HORIZON 31 

Scott — ^And then they tells the fish to whistle to 
'era when it's time to turn out. Ho ! Ho ! 

Mrs. Mayo — [With a forced smile.] You men 
folks are too smart to live, aren't you? [She resumes 
her knitting. Mayo pretends to read his paper; 
Andrew stares at the floor.] 

Scott — [Looks from one to the other of them with 
a puzzled air. Finally he is unable to bear the thick 
silence a minute longer, and blurts out:] You folks 
look as if you was settin' up with a corpse. ^With 
exaggerated concern.] God A'raighty, there ain't 
anyone dead, be there? 

Mayo — [Sharply.] Don't play the dunce, Dick! 
You know as well as we do there ain't no great cause 
to be feelin' chipper. 

Scott — [Argumentatively.] And there ain't no 
cause to be wearin' mourning, either, I can make out. 

Mrs. Mayo — [Indignantly.] How can you talk 
that way, Dick Scott, when you're taking our Robbie 
away from us, in the middle of the night, you might 
say, just to get on that old boat of yours on time! 
I think you might wait until morning when he's had 
his breakfast. 

Scott — [Appealing to the others hopelessly.] 
Ain't that a woman's way o' seein' things for you? 
God A'mighty, Kate, I can't give orders to the tide 
that it's got to be high just when it suits me to have 
it. I ain't gettin' no fun out o' missin' sleep and 
leavin' here at six bells myself. [Frotestingly.] And 
the Sunda ain't an old ship — ^leastways, not very old 



32 BEYOND THE HORIZON 

— and she's good's she ever was. Your boy Robert'll 
be as safe on board o' her as he'd be home in bed 
here. 

Mrs. Mayo — How can you say that, Dick, when 
we read in almost every paper about wrecks and 
storms, and ships being sunk. 

Scott — You've got to take your chances with such 
things. They don't happen often — not nigh as often 
as accidents do ashore. 

Mrs. Mayo — [Her lips trembling.] I wish Robbie 
weren't going — not so far away and for so long. 

Mayo — [Looking at her over his glasses — consol- 
ingly. ] There, Katey ! 

Mrs. Mayo — [Rebelliously.] Well, I do wish he 
wasn't ! It'd be different if he'd ever been away from 
home before for any length of time. If he was 
healthy and strong too, it'd be different. I'm so 
afraid he'll be taken down ill when you're miles from 
land, and there's no one to take care of him. 

Mayo — That's the very reason you was willin' for 
him to go, Katey — 'count o' your bein' 'fraid for his 
health. 

Mrs. Mayo — [Illogically.] But he seems to be all 
right now without Dick taking him away. 

Scott — [Protestingly.] You'd think to hear you, 
Kate, that I was kidnappin' Robert agin your will. 
Now I ain't asayin' I ain't tickled to death to have 
him along, because I be. It's a'mighty lonesome for 
a captain on a sailin' vessel at times, and Robert'll 
be company for me. But what I'm sayin' is, I didn't 



BEYOND THE HORIZON 33 

propose it. I never even suspicioned that he was 
hankerin* to ship out, or that you'd let him go 'til you 
and James speaks to me 'bout it. And now you 
blames me for it. 

Mayo — That's so. Dick's speaking the truth, 
Katey. 

Scott — You shouldn't be taking it so hard, 's far 
as I kin see. This vige'll make a man of him. I'll 
see to it he learns how to navigate, 'n' study for a 
mate's c'tificate right off — and it'll give him a trade 
for the rest of his life, if he wants to travel. 

Mrs. Mayo. — But I don't want him to travel all 
his life. You've got to see he comes home when this 
trip is over. Then he'll be all well, and he'll want to 
— to marry — [Andrew sits forward in his chair with 
an abrupt movement.] — and settle down right here. 

Scott — Well, in any case it won't hurt him to 
learn things when he's travellin'. And then he'll get 
to see a lot of the world in the ports we put in at, 'n' 
that '11 help him afterwards, no matter what he takes 
up. 

Mrs. Mayo — [Sta^-ing down at the knitting in her 
lap — as if she hadn't heard him.] I never realized 
how hard it was going to be for me to have Robbie 
go — or I wouldn't have considered it a minute. {On 
the verge of tears.] Oh, if only he wouldn't go! 

Scott — It ain't no good goin' on that way, Kate, 
now it's all settled. 

Mrs. Mayo — [Half -sobbing.] It's all right for 
you to talk. You've never had any children of your 



34 BEYOND THE HORIZON 

own, and you don't know what it means to be parted 
from them — and Robbie my youngest, too. [Andrew 
froxems and -fidgets in his chair.^ 

Mayo — {A trace of command in his voice.] No 
use takin' on so, Katey ! It's best for the boy. We've 
got to take that into consideration — no matter how 
much we hate to lose him. [Firmly/.] And like Dick 
says, it's all settled now. 

Andrew — [Sudderdy turning to them,] There's 
one thing none of you seem to take into consideration 
— that Rob wants to go. He's dead set on it. He's 
been dreaming over this trip ever since it was first 
talked about. It wouldn't be fair to him not to have 
him go. [A sudden thought seems to strike him and 
he continues doiihtfully.] At least, not if he still feels 
the same way about it he did when he was talking to 
me this evening. 

Mayo — [With an air of decision.] Andy's right, 
Katey. Robert wants to go. That ends all argyment, 
you can see that. 

Mrs. Mayo — [Faintly, hut resignedly.] Yes. I 
suppose it must be, then. 

Mayo — [Looking at his hig silver watch.] It's 
past nine. Wonder what's happened to Robert. He's 
been gone long enough to wheel the widder to home, 
certain. He can't be out dreamin' at the stars his last 
night. 

Mrs. Mayo — [A bit reproachfully.] Why didn't 
you wheel Mrs. Atkins back tonight, Andy.'' You 
usually do when she and Ruth come over. 



BEYOND THE HORIZON 35 

Andrew — [Avoiding her eyes.] I thought maybe 
Robert wanted to go tonight. He offered to go right 
away when they were leaving. 

Mrs. Mayo — He only wanted to be polite. 

Andrew — [Gets to his feet.] Well, he'll be right 
back, I guess. [He turns to his father.] Guess I'll 
go take a look at the black cow, Pa — see if she's ailing 
any. 

Mayo — Yes — better had, son. [Andrew goes i/nto 
the kitchen on the right.] 

Scott — [As he goes out — in a low tone.] There's 
the boy that would make a good, strong sea-farin' 
man — if he'd a mind to. 

Mayo — [Sharply.] Don't you put no such fool 
notions in Andys head, Dick — or you 'n' me's goin' 
to fall out. [Then he smiles.] You couldn't tempt 
him, no ways. Andy's a Mayo bred in the bone, and 
he's a born farmer, and a damn good one, too. He'll 
live and die right here on this farm, like I expect to. 
[With proud confidence.] And he'll make this one of 
the slickest, best-payin' farms in the state, too, afore 
he gits through! 

Scott — Seems to me it's a pretty slick place right 
now. 

Mayo — [Shaking his head.] It's too small. We 
need more land to make it amount to much, and we 
ain't got the capital to buy it. [Andrew enters from 
the kitchen. His hat is on, and he carries a lighted 
lantern in his hand. He goes to the door in the rear 
leading out.] 



36 BEYOND THE HORIZON 

Andrew — [Opens the door and pauses.] Any- 
thing else you can think of to be done, Pa ? 

Mayo — No, nothin' I know of. [Andrew goes 
out, shutting the door.] 

Mrs. Mavo — [After a pause.] What's come over 
Andy tonight, I wonder? He acts so strange. 

Mayo — He docs seem sort o' glum and out of sorts. 
It's 'count o' Robert leavin', I s'pose. [To Scott.] 
Dick, you wouldn't believe how them boys o' mine 
sticks together. The}^ ain't like most brothers. 
They've been thick as thieves all their lives, with nary 
a quarrel I kin remember. 

Scott — No need to tell me that. I can see how 
they take to each other. 

Mrs. Mayo — [Pursuing her train of thought.] 
Did you notice, James, how queer everyone was at 
supper? Robert seemed stirred up about something; 
and Ruth was so flustered and giggly ; and Andy sat 
there dumb, looking as if he'd lost his best friend ; and 
all of them onlj' nibbled at their food. 

Mayo — Guess they was all thinkin' about tomor- 
row, same as us. 

Mrs. Mayo — [Shaking her head.] No. I'm afraid 
somethin's happened — somethin' else. 

Mayo — You mean — 'bout Ruth? 

Mrs. Mayo — Yes. 

Mayo — [After a pause — frowning.] I hope her 
and Andy ain't had a serious fallin'-out. I always 
sorter hoped they'd hitch up together sooner or later. 



BEYOND THE HORIZON 37 

What d'you saj, Dick? Don't you think them twoM 
pair up well? 

Scott — [Nodding his head approv'mgli/.] A 
sweet, wholesome couple they'd make. 

Mayo — It'd be a good thing for Andy in more wa3^s 
than one. I ain't what you'd call calculatin' gener- 
ally, and I b'lieve in lettin' young folks run their 
affairs to suit themselves ; but there's advantages for 
both o' them in this match you can't overlook in 
reason. The Atkins farm is right next to ourn. Jined 
together they'd make a jim-dandj^ of a place, with 
plenty o' room to work in. And bein' a widder with 
only a daughter, and laid up all the time to boot, Mrs. 
Atkins can't do nothin' with the place as it ought to be 
done. Her hired help just goes along as they pleases, 
in spite o' her everlastin' complainin' at 'em. She 
needs a man, a first-class farmer, to take hold o' 
things; and Andy's just the one. 

Mrs. Mayo — [Abruptlij.] I don't think Ruth 
loves Andy. 

Mayo — You don't? Well, maybe a woman's eyes 
is sharper in such things, but — they're always to- 
gether. And if she don't love him now, she'll likely 
come around to it in time. 

Mayo — [As Mrs. Mayo shakes her head.] You 
seem mighty fixed in your opinion, Katey. How 
d'you know? 

Mrs. Mayo — It's just — what I feel. 

Mayo — [A light breaking over him.] You don't 
mean to say — [Mrs. Mayo nods. INIayo chuckles 



38 BEYOND THE HORIZON 

scornfully.^ Shucks ! I'm losin' my respect for your 
eyesight, Katey. Why, Robert ain't got no time 
for Ruth, 'cept as a friend ! 

Mrs. Mayo — [Warningly.] Sss-h-h! [The door 
from the yard opens, and Robert enters. He is smil- 
ing happily, and humming a song to himself, but as 
he comes into the room an undercurrent of nervous un- 
easiness manifests itself in his beaiing.] 

Mayo — So here you be at last ! [Robert comes 
forward and sits on Andy's chair. Mayo smiles slyly 
at his wife.] What have you been doin' all this time — 
countin' the stars to see if they all come out right and 
proper ? 

Robert — There's only one I'll ever look for any 
more, Pa. 

Mayo — [Reproachfully.] You miight've even not 
wasted time lookin' for that one — your last night. 

Mrs. Mayo — [As if she were speaking to a child.] 
You ought to have worn your coat a sharp night like 
this, Robbie. 

Robert — I wasn't cold. Ma. It's beautiful and 
warm on the road. 

Scott — [Disgustedly.] God A'mighty, Kate, you 
treat Robert as if he was one year old ! 

Robert — [With a smile.] I'm used to that. Uncle. 

Scott — [With joking severity.] You'll learn to 
forget all that baby coddlin' nights down off the 
Horn when you're haulin' hell-bent on the braces with 
a green sea up to your neck, and the old hooker doin' 



BEYOND THE HORIZON 89 

summersaults under you. That's the stuff '11 put iron 
in your blood, eh Kate? 

Mrs. Mayo — [Indignantly.] What are you try- 
ing to do, Dick Scott — frighten me out of my senses? 
If you can't say anything cheerful, you'd better keep 
still. 

Scott — Don't take on, Kate. I was only joshin' 
him and you. 

Mrs. Mayo — You have strange notions of what's 
a joke, I must say! [She notices Robert's nervous 
uneasiness.] You look all worked up over something, 
Robbie. What is it? 

Robert — [Swallo'wing hard, looks quickly from 
one to the other of them — then begins determinedly.] 
Yes, there is something — something I must tell you — 
all of you. [As he begins to talk Andrew enters 
quietly from the rear, closing the door behind him, 
and setting the lighted lantern on the floor. He re^ 
mains standing by the door, his arms folded, listening 
to Robert with a repressed expression of pain on his 
face. Robert is so much taken up with what he is 
going to say that he does not notice Andrew's pres- 
ence.] Something I discovered only this evening — 
very beautiful and wonderful — something I did not 
take into consideration previously because I hadn't 
dared to hope that such happiness could ever come to 
me. [Appealingly.] You must all remember that 
fact, won't you? 

Mayo — [Frowning.] Let's get to the point, son. 

Robert — You were offended because you thought 



40 BEYOND THE HORIZON 

I'd been wasting my time star-gazing on m}' last night 
at home. [ With a trace of defiance.] Well, the point 
is this, Pa; it isn^t m}' last night at home. I'm not 
going — I mean — I can't go tomorrow with Uncle Dick 
— or at any future time, either. 

Mrs. Mayo — [With a sharp sigh of joyful relief.] 
Oh, Robbie, I'm so glad ! 

Mayo — [Astounded.] You ain't serious, be you, 
Robert? 

Robert — Yes, I mean what I say. 

Mayo — [Severely.] Seems to me it's a pretty late 
liour in the day for you to be upsettin' all your plans 
so sudden ! 

Robert — I asked you to remember that until this 
evening I didn't know myself — the wonder which 
makes everything else in the world seem sordid and 
pitifully selfish by comparison. I had never dared to 
dream 

Mayo — [Irritahlij.] Come to the point. What is 
this foolishness you're talkin' of? 

Robert — [Flushing.] Ruth told me this evening 
that — she loved me. It was after I'd confessed I 
loved her. I told her I hadn't been conscious of my 
love until after the trip had been arranged, and I 
realized it would mean — leaving her. That was the 
truth. I didn't know until then. [As if justifying 
himself to the others.] I hadn't intended telling her 
anything but — suddenly — I felt I must. I didn't 
think it would matter, because I was going away, and 
before I came back I was sure she'd have forgotten. 



BEYOND THE HORIZON 41 

And I thought she loved — someone else. [Slowly — 
his eyes shining.] And then she cried and said it was 
I she'd loved all the time, but I hadn't seen it. 
[Simj^ly-] So we're going to be married — very soon 
— and I'm happy — and that's all there is to say. 
[Appealingly.] But you see, I couldn't go away now 
— even if I wanted to. 

Mrs. jMayo — [Getting up from her chair.] Of 
course not ! [Rushes over and throws her arms about 
him.] I knew it! I was just telling your father when 
you came in — and, Oh, Robbie, I'm so happy you're 
not going ! 

RoBEKT — [Kishng her.] I knew you'd be glad, Ma. 

Mayo — [Bewilder edly.] Well, I'll be damned! 
You do beat all for gettin' folks' minds all tangled 
up, Robert. And Ruth too! Whatever got into her 
of a sudden .f^ Why, I was thinkin' 



Mrs. Mayo — [Hurriedly — in a tone of warning.] 
Never mind what you were thinking, James. It 
wouldn't be any use telling us that now. [Mean- 
ingly.] And what you were hoping for turns out just 
the same almost, doesn't it? 

Mayo — [Thoughtfully — beginning to see this side 
of the argument. ] Yes ; I suppose you're right, 
Katey. [Scratching his head in puzzlement.] But 
how it ever come about! It do beat anything ever 
I heard. [Finally he gets up with a sheepish grin 
jind walks over to Robert.] We're glad you ain't 
goin', your Ma and I, for we'd have missed you ter- 
rible, that's certain and sure; and we're glad you've 



42 BEYOND THE HORIZON 

found happiness. Ruth's a fine girl and'U make a 
good wife to you. 

Robert — [Much moved.] Thank you, Pa. [He 
grips his father^ s hand in his.] 

Akdkew — [His face tense and drawn comes for- 
ward and holds out his hand, forcing a smile.] I 
guess it's my turn to offer congratulations, isn't it ? 

Robert — [With a startled cry when his brother ap- 
pears before him so suddenly.] Andy! [Confused.] 
Why — I — I didn't see you. Were you here when 

Andrew — I heard everything you said; and here's 
wishing you every happiness, you and Ruth. You 
both deserve the best there is. 

Robert — [Taking his hand.] Thanks, Andy, it's 

fine of you to [His voice dies away as he sees 

the pain in AnBREw^s eyes.] 

Andrew — [Giving his brother'' s hand a final grip.] 
Good luck to you both! [He turns away and goes 
bach to the rear when he bends over the lantern, 
fumbling with it to hide his emotion from the others.] 

Mrs. Mayo — [To the Captain, who has been too 
flabbergasted by Robert's decision to say a word.] 
What's the matter, Dick? Aren't you going to con- 
gratulate Robbie ? 

Scott — [Embarrassed.] Of course I be! [He 
gets to his feet and shakes Robert's hand, ^fluttering 
a vague] Luck to you, boy. [He stands beside 
Robert as if he wanted to say something more but 
doesn't know how to go about it.] 

Robert — Thanks, Uncle Dick. 



BEYOND THE HORIZON 43 

Scott — So you're not aconiin' on the Sunda with 
me? [His voice indicates disbelief.] 

Robert — I can't, Uncle — not now. I'm very 
grateful to you for having wanted to take me. I 
wouldn't miss it for anything else in the world under 
any other circumstances. [He sighs unconsciously.] 
But you see I've found — a bigger dream. 

Scott — [GrufflT/.] Bring the girl along with you. 
I'll fix it so there's room. 

Mrs. Mayo — [Sharply.] How can you propose 
such a crazy idea, Dick — to take a young girl on a 
sail-boat all over the world and not a woman on the 
boat but herself. Have you lost your senses.'' 

Robert — [Regret f idly.] It would be wonderful 
if we could both go with you, Uncle — but it's impos- 
sible. Ruth couldn't go on account of her mother, and 
besides, I'm afraid slie doesn't like the idea of the sea. 

Scott — [Ptitting all his disapproval into an ex- 
clamation.] Humph! [He goes back and sits down 
at the table.] 

Robert — [In joyous high spirits.] I want you all 
to understand one thing — I'm not going to be a loafer 
on your hands any longer. This meians the beginning 
of a new life for me in every way. I'm sick and dis- 
gusted at myself for sitting around and seeing every- 
one else hard at work, while all I've been doing is keep 
the accounts — a couple of hours work a week! I'm 
going to settle right down and take a real interest 
in the farm, and do my share. I'll prove to you, Pa, 



44 BEYOND THE HORIZON 

that I'm as good a Majo as you are — or Andy, when 
I want to be. 

Mayo — [Kindly hut sl:epUcaHy.\ That's the right 
spirit, Robert, but it ain't needful for you to 

Mrs. Mayo — [Intemipting him.] No one said 
you weren't doing your part, Robbie. You've got to 
look out for 

Robert — I know what you're going to say, and 
that's another false idea you've got to get out of 
your heads. It's ridiculous for you to persist in look- 
ing on me as an invalid. I'm as well as anyone, and 
I'll prove it to you if you'll give me half a chance. 
Once I get the hang of it, I'll be able to do as hard 
a day's work as any one. You wait and see. 

Mayo — Ain't none of us doubts your willin'ness, 
but you ain't never learned 

Robert — Then I'm going to start learning right 
away, and you'll teach me, won't you.^* 

Mayo — [Mollifyingly.] Of course I will, boy, and 
be glad to, only j^ou'd best go easy at first. 

Robert — With the two farms to look after, you'll 
need me; and when I marr}^ Ruth I'll have to know 
how to take care of things for her and her mother. 

Mayo — That's so, son. 

Scott — [Who has listened to this conversation in 
mingled consternation and amazement.] You don't 
mean to tell me you're goin' to let him stay, do j^ou, 
James ? 

Mayo — Why, things bein' as they be, Robert's free 
to do as he's a mind to. 



BEYOND THE HORIZON 45 

Mks. Mayo — Let him! The very idea ! 

Scott — {More and more rufjied.] Then all I got 
to say is, 3'ou're a soft, weak-willed critter to be per- 
niittin' a boy — and women, too — to be layin' your 
course for you wherever they damn pleases. 

Mayo — {Slyly amused.] It's just the same with me 
as 'twas with you, Dick. You can't order the tides 
on the seas to suit you, and I ain't pretendin' I can 
reg'late love for young folks. 

Scott — {Scornfully.] Love! They ain't old 
enough to know love when they sight it ! Love ! I'm 
ashamed of you, Robert, to go lettin' a little huggin' 
and kissin' in the dark spile your chances to make a 
man out o' yourself. It ain't common sense — no siree, 
it ain't — not by a hell of a sight! [He pounds the 
table with his fists in exasperation.] 

Robert — {Smiling.] I'm afraid I can't help it, 
Uncle. 

Scott — Humph! You ain't got any sand, that's 
what ! And you, James Mayo, lettin' boys and women 
run things to the devil and back — you've got less sense 
than he has ! 

Mayo — {With a grin.] If Robert can't help it, 
I'm sure I ain't able, Dick. 

I\Irs. Mayo — [Laughing provohvngly at her 
brother.] A fine one you are to be talking about love, 
Dick — an old cranky bachelor like you. Goodness 
sakes ! 

Scott — [Exasperated by their joking.] I've 



46 BEYOND THE HORIZON 

never been a damn fool like most, if that's what you're 
steerin' at. 

Mrs. Mayo — [Tawntinglt/.] Sour grapes, aren't 
they, Dick? [She laughs. Robekt and his father 
chuckle. Scott sputters rcith annoyance.^ Good 
gracious, Dick, you do act silly, flying into a temper 
over notliing. 

Scott — [Indignantly.^ Nothin' ! Is that what 
you call it — nothin'? You talk as if I wasn't con- 
cerned nohow in this here business. Seems to me I've 
got a right to have my say. Ain't I gone to all sorts 
o' trouble gettin' the sta'b'd cabin aU cleaned out 
and painted and fixed up so's that Robert o' yours 
'd be comfortable? Ain't I made all arrangements 
with the owners and stocked up with some special grub 
all on Robert's account? 

Robert — You've been fine, Uncle Dick ; and I ap- 
preciate it. Truly. 

Mato — 'Course ; we all does, Dick. 

INIrs. Mato — And don't spoil it now by getting 
angry at us. 

Scott — [JJnplacated.^ It's all right for you to 
say don't this and don't that ; but you ain't seen things 
from my side of it. I've been countin' sure on bavin' 
Robert for company on this vige — to sorta talk to and 
show things to, and teach, kinda, and I got my mind 
so set on havin' him I'm goin' to be double lonesome 
this vige. [He pounds on the table, attempting to 
cover up this confession of iceakncss.] Dam all this 
siUy lovin' business, anyway. 



BEYOND THE HORIZON 47 

Mes. Mayo — [Touched.] It's too bad you have to 
be so lonesome, Dick. Why don't you give up the 
old boat? You've been on the sea long enough, 
heaven's knows. Why don't you make up your mind 
and settle down here with us? 

Scott — [EmpJiaticalli/.] And go diggin' up the 
dirt and plantin' things? Not by a hell of a sight! 
You can have all the darned dirt in the earth for all 
o' me. I ain't sayin' it ain't all right — if you're made 
that way — but / ain't. No settlin' down for me. No 
sirree! [Irritably.] But all this talk ain't tellin' me 
what I'm to do with that sta'b'd cabin I fixed up. It's 
all painted white, an a bran new mattress on the bunk, 
'n' new sheets 'n' blankets 'n' things. And Chips 
' built in a book-case so's Robert could take his books 
along — with a slidin' bar fixed across't it, mind, so's 
they couldn't fall out no matter how she rolled. [ With 
excited consternation.^ What d'you suppose my offi- 
cers is goin' to think when there's no one comes aboard 
to occupy that sta'b'd cabin? And the men what did 
the work on it — what'll they think? [He shakes his 
finger indignantly.] They're liable as not to suspicion 
it was a womun I'd planned to ship along, and that 
she gave me the go-by at the last moment ! [He zcipes 
his perspiring brow in anguish at this thought.] 
Gawd A'raighty ! They're only lookin' to have the 
laugh on me for something like that. They're liable 
to b'lieve anytliing, those fellers is ! 

Mayo — [With a xcink.] Then there's nothing to it 
but for you to get right out and hunt up a wife some- 



48 BEYOND THE HORIZON 

wheres for that spic 'n' span cabin. She'll have to be 
a pretty one, too, to match it. [He looJcs at his watch 
with exaggerated concern.] You ain't got much time 
to find her, Dick. 

Scott — [As the others smile — sulkili/.] You kin 
go to thunder, Jim Mayo ! 

Andrew — [Comes forward from where he has been 
standing by the door, rear, brooding. His face is set 
in a look of grim determination.] You needn't worry 
about that spare cabin. Uncle Dick, if you've a mind 
to take me in Robert's place. 

Robert — [Turning to him quickly.] Andy! [He 
sees at once the fixed resolve in his brother's eyes, and 
realizes immediately the reason for it — in consterna- 
tion.] Andy, you mustn't! 

Andrew — You've made your decision, Rob, ani 
now I've made mine. You're out of this, remember. 

Robert — [Hurt by his brother's tone.] But^ 
Andy 

Andrew — Don't interfere, Rob — that's all I askij 
[Turning to his uncle.] You haven't answered m^ 
question. Uncle Dick. 

Scott — [Clearijig his throat, with an uneasy side 
glance at James Mayo who is staring at his elder son 
as if he tliought he had suddenly gone mad.] O' 
course, I'd be glad to have you, Andy. 

Andrew — It's settled then. I can pack the little I 
want to take in a few minutes. 

Mrs. Mayo — Don't be a fool, Dick. Andy's only 
joking you. He wouldn't go for anything. 



BEYOND THE HORIZON 49 

Scott — {Disgnintledly.\ It's hard to tell who's 
jokin' and who's not in this house. 

Andrew — [Firmly.^ I'm not joking, Uncle Dick 

-and since I've got your permission, I'm going with 
you. {As Scott looks at Jihn uncertamly.] You 
needn't be afraid I'll go back on my word. When I 
say I'll go, I'll go. 

Robert — [Hurt by the insinuation he feels in 
Andrew's on€.\ Andy! That isn't fair! 

Mrs. Mayo — [Beginning to be disturbed.] But I 
know he must be fooling us. Aren't you, Andy? 

Andrew — No, Ma, I'm not. 

Mayo — [F7-owning.] Seems to me this ain't no 
subject to joke over — not for Andy. 

Andrew — [Facing his father.] I agree with you. 
Pa, and I tell you again, once and for all, that I've 
made up my mind to go. 

Mayo — [Dumbfounded — unable to doubt the deter- 
mination in Andrew's voice — helplessly.] But why, 
son ? Why ? 

Andrew — [Evasively.] I've always wanted to go, 
even if I ain't said anything about it. 

Robert — Andy ! 

Andrew — [Half -angrily.] You shut up, Rob! I 
told you to keep out of this. [Turning to his father 
again.] I didn't ever mention it because as long as 
Rob was going I knew it was no use ; but now Rob's 
staying on here, and Uncle Dick wants someone along 
with him, there isn't any reason for me not to go. 



50 BEYOND THE HORIZON 

Mayo — [Breathing hard.] No reason? Can yoi 
stand there and say that to me, Andrew ? 

Mrs. Mayo — [Hastily — seeing the gathering 
storm.] He doesn't mean a word of it, James. 

Mayo — [MaMng a gesture to her to keep silence.]] 
Let me talk, Katey. [In a more kindly tone.] 
What's come over you so sudden, Andy.^* You know's 
well as I do that it wouldn't be fair o' you to run off j 
at a moment's notice right now when we're up to ourj 
necks in hard work. 

Andrew — [Avoiding his eyes.] Rob'll hold his en( 
up as soon as he learns. 

Mayo — You know that ain't so. Robert was neverl 
cut out for a farmer, and you was. 

Andrew — You can easily get a man to do myj 
work. 

Mayo — [Restraining his anger with an effort.] It! 
sounds strange to hear you, Andy, that I always 
thought had good sense, talkin' crazy like that. And 
you don't believe yourself one bit of what you've been 
sayin' — not 'less you've suddenly gone out of your 
mind. [Scornfully.] Get a man to take your place! 
Where'd I get him, tell me, with the shortage of farm 
labor hereabouts? And if I could get one, what in- 
t'rest d'you ■ suppose he'd take beyond doin' as littleJ 
work as he could for the money I paid him ? You ain'tl 
been workin' here for no hire, Andy, that you kin give 
me your notice to quit like you've done. The farm is 
your'n as well as mine. You've always worked on it 
with that understanding ; and what you're sayin' you 



BEYOND THE HORIZON 51 

intend doin' is just skulkin' out o' your rightful re- 
sponsibility. 

Andrew — [Looking at the 'floor — simply. \ I'm 
sorry, Pa. [After a slight pause. ^ It's no use talk- 
ing any more about it. 

Mrs. Mayo — [In relief.^ There! I knew Andy'd 
come to his senses ! 

Andrew — Don't get the wrong idea, Ma. I'm not 
backing out. 

]\Iayo — You mean you're goin' in spite of — every- 
thin'? 

Andrew — Yes. I'm going. I want to — and — I've 
got to. [He looks at his father defiantly.^ I feel I 
oughtn't to miss this chance to go out into the world 
and see things, and — I want to go. 

Mayo — [With hitter scor<n.\ So — you want to go 
out into the world and see thin's ! [His voice raised 
and quivering with anger. \ I never thought I'd live 
to see the day when a son o' mine 'd look me in the face 
and tell a bare-faced lie! [Bursting out.^ You're a 
liar, Andy Maj'^o, and a mean one to boot ! 

Mrs. Mayo — James ! 

Robert — Pa ! 

Scott — Steady there, Jim ! 

Mayo — [Waving their protests a^de.^ He is and 
he knows it. 

I Andrew — [His face flushed.^ I won't argue with 
you, Pa. You can think as badly of me as you like. 

I I can't help that. Let's not talk about it any more. 



52 BEYOND THE HORIZON 

I've made up my mind, and nothing you can say will 
change it. 

]\Iayo — [Shaking his finger at Andy, in a cold 
rage.'\ You know I'm speakin' truth — that's why 
you're afraid to argy ! You lie when you say you 
want to go 'way — and see things ! You ain't got no 
likin' in the world to go. Your place is right here on 
this farm — the place you was born to b}' nature — and 
you can't tell me no different. I've watched you grow 
up, and I know your ways, and they're my ways. 
You're runnin' against your own nature, and you're 
goin' to be a'mighty sorry for it if you do. You're 
tryin' to pretend to me something that don't fit in with 
your make-up, and it's damn fool pretendin' if 3'^ou 
think you're foolin' me. 'S if I didn't know your real 
reason for runnin' away! And runnin' away's the 
only words to fit it. You're runnin' away 'cause 
you're put out and riled 'cause your own brother's got 
Ruth 'stead o' you, and 

Andeew — [His face crimson — tensely.] Stop, Pa ! 
I won't stand hearing that — not even from you ! 

Mrs. Mayo — [Rushing to Andy and putting her 
arms about him protectingly.] Don't mind him, 
Andy dear. He don't mean a word he's saying ! 
[Robert stands rigidly, his hands clenched, his face 
contracted by pain. Scott sits dumbfounded and 
open-mouthed. Andrew soothes his mother who is on 
the verge of tears.] 

Mayo — [In angry triumph.^ It's the truth, Andy 



BEYOND THE HORIZON 53 

Mayo ! And you ought to be bowed in shame to think 
of it! 

Robert — [Protestingly.] Pa! You've gone far 
enough. It's a shame for you to talk that way I 

Mrs. Mayo — [Coming from Andrew to his father; 
puts her hands on his shoulders as though to try and 
push him back in the chair from which he has risen.^ 
Won't you be still, James.'* Please won't you? 

Mayo — [LooJcing at Andrew over his wife's 
shoulder — stuhhornly.] The truth — God's truth! 

Mrs. Mayo — Sli-h-h! [She tries to ptit a finger 
across his lips, but he twists his head away.'] 

Andreav — [Who has regained control over him- 
self.] You're wrong, Pa, it isn't truth. [With de- 
fiant assertiveness.] I don't love Ruth. I never loved 
her, and the thought of such a thing never entered my 
head. 

Mayo — [With an cmgry snort of disbelief.] 
Hump ! You're pilin' lie on lie ! 

Andrew — [Losing his temper — bitterly.] I sup- 
pose it'd be hard for you to explain anyone's wanting 
to leave this blessed farm except for some outside 
;( reason like that. You think these few measly acres 
I are heaven, and that none'd want to ever do nothing 
'\ in all their lives but stay right here and work like a 
flog all the time. But I'm sick and tired of it — 
1 wliether you want to believe me or not — and that's 
" ':v I'm glad to get a chance to move on. I've been 

k and tired of farm life for a long time, and if I 
(![ hadn't said anything about it, it was only to save 



54 BEYOND THE HORIZON 

your feelings. Just because you love it here, you've 
got your mind set that I like it, too. You want me 
to stay on so's you can know that I'll be taking care 
of the rotten farm after you're gone. Well, Rob'll 
be here, and he's a Mayo, too. You can leave it in 
his hands. 

Robert — Andy! Don't! You're only making it 
worse. 

Andrew — [SuJJiily.] I don't care. I've done my' 
share of work here. I've earned my right to quit when 
I want to. [Suddenly overcome with anger and 
grief; with rising intensity.'] I'm sick and tired of 
the whole damn business. I hate the farm and every 
inch of ground in it. I'm sick of digging in the dirt 
and sweating in the sun like a slave without getting 
a word of thanks for it. [Tears of rage starting to 
his eyes — hoarsely.] I'm through, through for good 
and all ; and if Uncle Dick won't take me on his ship, 
I'll find another. I'll get away somewhere, somehow. 

Mrs. Mayo — [In a frightened voice.] Don't you 
answer him, James. He doesn't know what he's say- 
ing to you. Don't say a word to him 'til he's In his 
right senses again. Please James, don't 

Mayo — [Pushes her away from him; his face is 
drawn and pale with the violence of his passion. He 
glares at Andrew as if he hated him.] You dare to 
— ^you dare to speak like that to me? You talk like 
that 'bout this farm — the Mayo farm — where you 
was born — you — you [He clenches his fist above 



§ 



BEYOND THE HORIZON 55 

his head and advamces threateningly on Andrew.] 
You damned whelp ! 

Mrs. Mayo — [With a shriek.] James! [She 
covers her face with her hands and sinks weakly into 
IMayo's chair. Andrew remains standing motion- 
less, his face pale and set.] 

Scott — [Starting to his feet and stretching his 
arms across the table toward Mayo.] Easy there, 
Jim! 

Robert — [Throwing himself between father and 
brother.] Stop! Are you mad? 

Mayo — [Grabs Robert's arm and pushes him 
aside — then stands for a moment gasping for breath 
before Andrew. He points to the door with a shaking 
finger.] Yes — go! — go! — You're no son o' mine — 
no son o' mine! You can go to hell if you want to! 
Don't let me find you here — in tlie mornin' — or — or 
■ — I'll throw you out ! 

Robert — Pa ! For God's sake ! 

[Mrs. Mai'O bursts into noisy sobbing.] 

Scott — [Placatingly.] Ain't you goln' too far, 
Jim.'' 

Mayo — [Turning on him furiously.] Shut up, 
you — you Dick ! It's your fault — a lot o' this — you 
and your cussed ship ! Don't you take him — if you 
do — don't you dare darken this door again. Let him 
go by himself and learn to starve — starve! [He 
gulps convulsively and turns again to Andrew.] 
And you go — tomorrow mornin' — and by God — don't 
come back — don't dare come back — by God, not while 



56 BEYOND THE HORIZON 

I'm livln' — or I'll — 1^1 [He shakes over hig\ 

muttered threat and strides toward the door rear,] 
right.] 

]\Irs. Mayo — [Rising and throwing her armgi 
around him — hysteric ally. ~\ James ! James ! Wherej 
ai^e you going? 

Mayo — [Incoherently.] I'm goin' — to bed, Katey.j 
It's late, Katcy — it's late. [Fie goes orit.] 

Mrs. Mayo — [Following him, pleading hysteric 
ally.] James ! Take back what you've said to And] 
James ! [She follows him out. Robert and the Cap-* 
TAIN stare after them with horrified eyes. Andrew* 
stands rigidly looking straight in front of him, his 
fists clenched at his sides. ^ 

Scott — [The first to find his voice — with an eX' 
plosive sigh.] Well, if he ain't the devil himself when 
he's roused! You oughtn't to have talked to him 
that way, Andy 'bout the damn farm, knowin' how 
touchy he is about it. [With another sigh.^ Well, 
you won't mind what he's said in anger. He'll be 
sorry for it when he's calmed down a bit. 

Andrew — [In a dead voice.] No, he won't. You 
don't know him, [Defiantly. ~\ What's said is said 
and can't be unsaid; and I've chosen. 

Scott — [Uncertainly.] You don't mean — you're 
still a mind to go — go with me, do you ? 

Andrew — [Stubbornly.^ I haven't said I've 
changed my mind, have I? There's all the reason in 
the world for me to go — now. And I'm going if 
you're not afraid to take me after what he said. 



BEYOND THE HORIZON 57 

Robert — [With tiolent protest.] Andy! You 
can't! Don't be a fool! This is all so stupid — and 
terrible. 

Andrew — [Coldly.^ I'll talk to you in a minute, 
Rob, when we're alone. This is between Uncle and 
me. [Crushed hy his brother^s cold indifference, 
Robert si7iks down into a chair, holding liis head in 
his hands. Andrew turns again to Scott.] If you 
don't want to take me, it's all right — there's no hard 
feelings. I can understand you don't like to fall out 
with Pa. 

Scott — [Indignantly.^ Gawd A'mighty, Andy, I 
ain't scared o' your Pa, nor no man livin,' I want 
t'have you come along! Only I was thinkin' o' Kate. 
We don't want her to have to suffer from his contrari- 
ness. Let's see. [He screws up his brows in thought.] 
S'posing we both He a little, eh.'' I'll tell 'em you're 
not comin' with me, and you tell 'em you're goin' to 
the port to get another ship. We can leave here in 
the team together. That's natural enough. They 
can't suspect nothin' from that. And then you can 
write home the first port we touch and explain things. 
[He winks at Andrew cunningly.^ Are you on to the 
course ? 

Andrew — [Frowning.] Yes — if you think it's 
best. 

Scott — For your Ma's sake. I wouldn't ask it, 
else. 

Andrew — [Shrugging his shoulders.^ All right 
then. 



58 BEYOND THE HORIZON 

Scott — [With a great sigh of relief — comes and 
slaps Andrew on the back — beaming.] I'm damned 
glad you're shippin' on, Andy. I like your spirit, 
and the way you spoke up to him. [Lowering his 
voice to a cautious whisper.^ You was right not to 
want to waste your life plowin' dirt and pattin' it 
down again. The sea's the place for a young feller 
like you that isn't half dead 'n' alive. [He gives 
Andy a final approving slap.] You'n' me '11 get 
along like twins, see if we don't. I'm durned glad 
you're comin', boy. 

Andrew — [Wearily.^ Let's not talk about it any 
more. Uncle. I'm tired of talking. 

Scott — Right! I'm goin' aloft to turn in, and 
leave you two alone. Don't forget to pack your dun- 
nage. And git some sleep, if you kin. We'll want 
to sneak out extra early b'fore they're up. It'll do 
away with more argyments. Robert can drive us down 
to the town, and bring back the team. [He goes to 
the door in the rear, left.] Well, good night. 

Andrew — Good night. [Scott goes out. The 
two brothers remain silent for a moment. Then An- 
drew comes over to his brother and puts a hand on his 
back. He speaks in a low voice, full of feeling. ] Buck 
up, Rob. It ain't any use crying over spilt milk ; and 
it'll all turn out for the best — let's hope. It couldn't 
be helped — what's happened. 

Robert — [Wildly.] But it's a lie, Andy, a lie ! 

Andrew — Of course it's a lie. You know it and I 
know it, — but that's all ought to know it. 



BEYOND THE HORIZON 59 

Robert — Pa'll never forgive you. Oh, why did 
you want to anger him like that? You know how he 
feels about the farm. Oh, the whole affair is so sense- 
less — and tragic. Why did you think you must go 
away ? 

Andrew — You know better than to ask that. You 
know why. [Fiercely.^ I can wish you and Ruth all 
the good luck in the world, and I do, and I mean it; 
but you can't expect me to stay around here and watch 
you two together, day after day — and me alone. You 
couldn't expect that ! I couldn't stand it — not after 
all the plans I'd made to happen on this place think- 
ing [His voice breaks.] Thinking she cared 

for me. 

Robert — [Putting a hand on his brother's arm-l 
God ! It's horrible ! I feel so guilty — to think that I 
should be the cause of your suffering, after we've been 
such pals all our lives. If I could have foreseen 
what'd happen, I swear to you I'd have never said a 
word to Ruth. I swear I wouldn't have, Andy. 

Andrew — I know you wouldn't ; and that would've 
been worse, for Ruth would've suffered then. [He 
pats his brother^s shoulder.] It's best as it is. It had 
to be, and I've got to stand the gaff, that's all. Pa'll 
see how I felt — after a time. [As Robert shakes his 
head^ — and if he don't — well, it can't be helped. 

Robert — But think of Ma ! God, Andy, you can't 
go ! You can't ! 

Andrew — [Fiercely.] I've got to go — to get 
away ! I've got to, I tell you. I'd die here. I'd kill 



CO BF.YOND THE HORIZON 

myself ! Can't, you understand what it'd mean to me, 
how I'd suffer? You don't know how I'd planned — 
for Ruth and me — the hopes I'd had about what the 
future'd be like. You can't blame me to go. You'd 
do the same yourself. I'd go crazy here, bein' re- 
minded every second of the day how my life's been 
smashed, and what a fool I'd made of myself. I'd 
have nothing to hope or live for. I've got to get away 
and try and forget, if I can. I never could stay here 
— seeing her. And I'd hate the farm if I stayed, hate 
it for bringin' things back. I couldn't take interest in 
the work any more, work with no purpose in sight. 
Can't you see what a hell it'd be? You love her too, 
Rob. Put yourself in my place, and remember I 
haven't stopped loving her, and couldn't if I was to 
stay. Would that be fair to you or to her? Put 
yourself in my place. [He shahes his brother fiercely 
by the shoulder.'] What'd you do then? Tell me the 
truth ! You love her. What'd you do ? In spite of 
all hell, what'd you do? 

Robert — [Choldngly.] I'd — I'd go, Andy! [He 
buries his face in his hands with a shuddering sob.]. 
God! 

Andrew — [Seeming to relax suddenly all over his 
body — in a low, steady voice.] Then you know why 
I got to go ; and there's nothing more to be said. 

Robert — [In a frenzy of rebellion.^ ^Vliy did 
this have to happen to us? It's damnable ! [He looks 
about him wildly, as if his vengeance were seeking the 
responsible fate.] 



BEYOND THE HORIZON 61 

Andrew — \^Sooth%ngly — again 'putting his hands 
on his brother'' s shoulder.^ It's no use fussing 
any more, Rob. It's done. [Affectionately.^ You'll 
forget anything I said to liurt when I was mad, won't 
you.'' I wanted to keep you out of it. 

Robert — Oh, Andy, it's me who ought to be ask- 
ing your forgiveness for the suffering I've brought 
on you. 

Andrew — [Forcing a smile.] I guess Ruth's got a 
right to haA'c who she likes; you ain't to blame for 
that. She made a good choice — and God bless her 
for it ! 

Robert — Andy! Oh, I wish I could tell you half 
I feel of how fine you are ! 

Andrew — [Interrupting him quickly. 1 Shut up! 
Let's go to bed. We've talked long enough, and I've 
got to be up long before sun-up. You, too, if you're 
going to drive us down. 

Robert — Yes. Yes. 

Andrew — [Turning down the lamp.] And I've 
got to pack yet. [He yawns with utter weariness.^ 
I'm as tired as if I'd been plowing twenty-four hours 
at a stretch. [Dully.] I feel — dead. [Robert 
covers his face again with his hands. Andrew 
shakes his head as if to get rid of his thoughts, and 
continues with a poor attempt at cheery briskness.] 
I'm going to douse the light. Come on. [He slaps 
his brother on the back. Robert does not move.- 
Andrew bends over and blows out the lamp. His- 
voice comes from the darkness.] Don't sit there mourn- 



62 BEYOND THE. HORIZON 

ing, Rob. It'll all come out in the wash. Come on 
and get some sleep. Everything '11 turn out all right 
in the end. [Robert can he heard stumbling to his 
feet, and the dark figures of the two brothers can be 
seen groping their way toward the doorway in the 
rear as 

{The Curtain Falls^ 



BEYOND THE HORIZON 
ACTH 



ACT TWO 

SCENE ONE 

Scene — Same as Act One, Scene Two. Sitting room 
of the farm house about half past twelve in the 
afternoon of a hot, sun-baked Jay in midsum- 
mer, three years later. All the windows are open, 
hut no breeze stirs the soiled white curtains. A 
patched screen door is in the rear. Through iP 
the yard can be seen, its small stretch of lawn. 
divided by the dirt path leading to the door from 
the gate in the white picket fence which borders 
the road. 

The room has changed, not so much in its out- 
ward appearance as in its general atmosphere. 
Little significant details give evidence of care- 
lessness, of inefficiency, of an industry gone to 
seed. The chairs appear shabby from lack of 
paint; the table cover is spotted and askew; holes 
show in the curtains; a child's doll, with one arm 
gone, lies under the table; a hoe stands in a 
corner; a man's coat is flung on the couch in the 
rear; the desk is cluttered up with odds and ends; 
a number of books are piled carelessly on the 
65 



66 BEYOND THE HORIZON 

side-board. The noon enervation of the svltrifj 
scorching day seems to have 'penetrated indoors^ 
causing even inanimate objects to "wear an aspect 
of despondent exhaustion. 

A place is set at the end of the table, left, for 
someone's dinner. Through the open door to the 
kitchen comes the clatter of dishes being washed, 
interrupted at intervals by a woman's irritated 
voice and the peevish whining of a child. 

At the rise of the curtain Mrs. Mayo and 
Mrs. Atkins are discovered sitting facing each 
other, Mrs. Mayo to the rear, Mrs. Atkins to 
the right of the table. Mrs. Mayo's face has 
lost all character, disintegrated, become a weak 
mask wearing a helpless, doleful expression of 
being constantly on the verge of comfortless 
tears. She speaks in an uncertain voice, without 
assertiveness, as if all power of willing had de- 
serted her. Mrs. Atkins is in her wheel chair. 
She is a thin, pale-faced, unintelligent looking 
woman of about forty-eight, with hard, bright 
eyes. A victim of partial paralysis for many 
years, condemned to be pushed from day to day 
of her life in a wheel chair, she has developed 
the selfish, irritable nature of the chronic invalid. 
Both women are dressed in black. Mrs. Atkins 
knits nervously as she talks. A ball of unused 
yarn, with needles stuck through it, lies on the 
table before Mrs. Mayo. 



I 



BEYOND THE HORIZON 67 

Mrs. Atkkins — [With a disapproving glance at 
the place set on the table.] Robert's late for his din- 
ner again, as usual. I don't see why Ruth puts up 
with it, and I've told her so. Many's the time I've 
f said to her " It's about time you put a stop to his 
; nonsense. Does he suppose you're runnin' a hotel — 
j with no one to help with things? " But she don't pay 
I no attention. She's as bad as he is, a'most — thinks 
; she knows better than an old, sick body like me. 

Mrs. ]Mayo — [Dulli/.] Robbie's always late for 
things. He can't help it, Sarah. 

Mrs. Atkins — [With a snort.] Can't help it ! How 
you do go on, Kate, findin' excuses for him ! Anybody 
can help an^^thing they've a mind to — as long as 
the^^'ve got health, and ain't rendered helpless like 
me, [She adds as a pious afterthought] — through the 
will of God. 

Mrs. Mayo — Robbie can't. 

Mrs. Atkins — Can't ! It do make me mad, Kate 
i\Iayo, to see folks that God gave all the use of their 
limbs to potterin' round and wastin' time doin' every 
thing the wrong way — and me powerless to help and 
at their mercy, you might say. And it ain't that I 
haven't pointed the right way to 'cm. I've talked to 
Robert thousands of times and told him how things 
ought to be done. You know that, Kate Mayo. But 
d'you s'pose he takes any notice of what I say.^" Or 
Ruth, either — my own daughter.? No, they think 
I'm a crazy, cranky old woman, half dead a'ready, and 



68 BEYOND THE HORIZON 

the sooner I'm in the grave and out o' their way the 
better it'd suit them. 

Mrs. Mayo — You mustn't talk that way, Sarah. 
They're not as wicked as that. And you've got years 
and years before you. 

]Mk.s. Atkins — You're like the rest, Kate. You 
don't know how near the end I am. Well, at least I ; 
can go to my eternal rest with a clear conscience. I've >, 
done all a body could do to avert ruin from this house. 
On their heads be it ! 

jMrs. Mayo — [ With hopeless indifference. ] Things 
might be worse. Robert never had any experience in 
farming. You can't expect him to learn in a day. 

Mrs. Atkins — [SnappUy.] He's had three years 
to learn, and he's gettin' worse 'stead of better. He 
hasn't got it in him, that's what; and I do say it to 
you, Kate Mayo, even if he is your son. He doesn't 
want to learn. Everything I've told him he's that 
pig-headed he's gone and done the exact opposite. 
And now look where things are! They couldn't be 
worse, spite o' what you say. Not on'y your place 
but mine too is driftin' to rack and ruin, and I can't 
do nothin' to prevent, 'cause Ruth backs him up in his 
folly and shiftlessness. 

Mrs. Mayo — [With a spark of assertiveness.] You 
can't say but Robbie works hard, Sarah. 

^Irs. Atkins — What good's workin' hard if it don't 
accomplish any thin', I'd like to know.'' 

Mrs. Mayo — Robbie's had bad luck against him.! 

Mrs. Atkins — Say what you've a mind to, Kate, 



BEYOND THE HORIZON 69 

the proof of the puddin's In the eatin' ; and you 
can't deny that things have been goin' from bad to 
worse ever since your husband died two years back. 

Mrs. Mayo — [Wiping tears from her eyes with 
her handkerchief.] It was God's will that he should 
be taken. 

Mrs. Atkins — [Triumphantly.] It was God's 
punishment on James Mayo for the blasphemin' and 
denyin' of God he done all his sinful life! [Mrs. 
'Mayo begins to weep softly.] There, Kate, I shouldn't 
be remindin' you, I know. He's at peace, poor man, 
and forgiven, let's pray. 

]\Ir, Mayo — [Wiping her eyes — simply.] James 
was a good man. 

Mrs. Atkins — [Ignoring this remark.] What I 
was sayin' was that since Robert's been in charge 
I things've been goln' down hill steady. You don't 
. know how bad they are. Robert don't let on to you 
what's happlnin' ; and you'd never see it 3'ourself if 
'twas under 3^our nose. But, thank God, Ruth still 
comes to me once in a while for advice when she's 
worried near out of her senses by his goin's-on. Do 
you know what she told me last night? But I forgot, 
she said not to tell you — still I think you've got a 
right to know, and It's my duty not to let such things 
go on behind your back. 

Mrs. Mayo — [Wearily.] You can tell me if you 
want to. 

Mrs. Atkins — [Bending over toward her — in a low 
voice.] Ruth was almost crazy about it. Robert told 



70 BEYOND THE HORIZON 

her he'd have to mortgage the farm — said he didn't 
know how he'd pull through 'til harvest without it, 
and he can't get money any other way. [She 
straightens up — indignantly.^ Now what do you 
think of your Robert? 

Mrs. Mayo — [Resignedly.] If it has to be 

Mrs. Atkins — You don't mean to say you're goin* ' 
to sign away your farm, Kate Mayo — after me : 
warnin' you? 

Mrs. Mayo — I'll do what Robbie says is needful, 

Mrs. Atkins — [Holding up her hands.] Well, of 
all the foolishness ! — well, it's your farm, not mine, , 
and I've nothin' more to say. 

Mrs. Mayo — Maybe Robbie'll manage till Andy 
gets back and sees to things. It can't be long now. 

Mrs. Atkins — [With keen interest.] Ruth says 
Andy ought to turn up any day. When does Robert 
figger he'll get here? 

Mrs. Mayo — He says he can't calculate exactly on 
account o' the Sunda being a sail boat. Last letter 
he got was from England, the day they were sailing j 
for home. That was over a month ago, and Robbie | 
thinks they're overdue now. ■ 

Mrs. Atkins — We can give praise to God then that 
he'll be back in the nick o' time. I've got confidence 
in Andy and always did have, when it comes to ), 
f armin' ; and he ought to be tired of travellin' and i 
anxious to get home and settle down to work again. ,; 

Mrs. Mayo — Andy has been working. He's head ' 



BEYOND THE HORIZON 71 

officer on Dick's boat, he wrote Robbie. You know 
that. 

Mrs. Atkins — That foolin' on ships is all right 
for a spell, but he must be right sick of it by this. 
Andy's got to the age where it's time he took hold of 
things serious and got this farm workin' as it ought 
to be again. 

Mrs. Mayo — [Musingly.] I wonder if he's changed' 
much. He used to be so fine-looking and strong. 
[With a sigh.] Three years! It seems more like 
three hundred. [Her eyes piling — piteously.] Oh, 
if James could only have lived 'til he came back — 
and forgiven him! 

Mrs. Atkins — He never would have — not James 
Mayo ! Didn't he keep his heart hardened against 
him till the last in spite of all you and Robert did to 
soften him? 

Mrs. Mayo — [With a feeble fash of anger.] Don't 
you dare say that! [Brokenly.] Oh, I know deep 
down in his heart he forgave Andy, though he was 
too stubborn ever to own up to it. It was that 
brought on his death — breaking his heart just on 
account of his stubborn pride. [She wipes her eyes 
with her handkerchief and sobs.] 

Mrs. Atkins — [Piotisly.] It was the will of God. 
[The whining crying of the child sounds from the 
\itchen. Mrs. Atkins frowns irritably.] Drat that 
young one! Seems as if she cries all the time on 
purpose to set a body's nerves on edge. 

Mrs. Mayo — [Wiping her eyes.] It's the heat 



72 BEYOND THE HORIZON 

upsets her. Mary doesn't feel any too well these days, 
poor little child! 

Mrs. Atkins — She gets it right from her Pa — 
bein' sickly all the time. You can't deny Robert was 
always ailin' as a child. [She sighs heavily. \ It was 
a crazy mistake for them two to get married. I 
argyed against it at the time, but Ruth was so spelledi 
with Robert's wild poetry notions she wouldn't listem 
to sense. Andy was the one would have been the 
match for her. I always thought so in those days, 
same as your James did ; and I know she liked Andy. 
Then 'long comes Robert with his book-learnin' andi 
high-fangled talk — and off she goes and marries him. 

Mrs. Mayo — I've often thought since it might have 
been better the other way. But Ruth and Robbie 
seem happy enough together. 

Mrs. Atkins — At any rate it was God's work — 
and His will be done. [The two women sit in silence 
for a moment. Ruth enters from the kitchen, carry-' 
ing in her arms her two year old daughter, Mary, a 
'pretty hut sickly and aenemic looking child with a 
tear-stained face. Ruth has aged appreciably. Her 
face has lost its youth and freshness. There is a trace 
in her expression of something hard and spiteful. She 
sits in the rocker in front of the table and sighsi 
wearily. She wears a gingham dress with a soiled 
apron tied around her waist. \ 

Ruth — Land sakes, if this isn't a scorcher! Thai 
kitchen's like a furnace. Phew! [She pushes thA 
damp hair hack from her forehead.] 



BEYOND THE HORIZON 73 

Mrs. Mayo — Why didn't you call me to help with 
the dishes? 

Ruth — [Shortlij.] No. The heat in there'd kill 
you. 

Mary — [Sees the doll under the table and struggles 
on her mother's lap.] Mary wants Dolly, Mama! 
Give Mary Dolly ! 

Ruth — [Pulling her back.] It's time for your 
nap. You can't play with Dolly now. 

Mary — [Commencing to cry whiningly.] Mary 
wants Dolly ! 

Mrs. Atkins — [Irritably.] Can't you keep that 
child still? Her racket's enough to split a body's 
ears. Put her down and let her play with the doll if 
it'll quiet her. 

Ruth — [Lifting Mary to the floor.] There! I 
hope you'll be satisfied and keep still. You're only 
to play for a minute, remember. Then you've got to 
take your nap. [Mary sits down on the floor before 
the table and plays with the doll in silence. Ruth 
glances at the place set on the table.] It's a wonder 
Rob wouldn't try to get to meals on time once in a 
while. Does he think I've nothing to do on a hot day 
like this but stand in that kitchen washing dishes ? 

Mrs. Mayo — [Dully.] Something must have gone 
wrong again. 

Ruth — [Wearily.] I s'pose so. Something's al- 
.ways going wrong these days, it looks like. 

Mrs. Atkins — [Snappily.] It wouldn't if you pos- 
sessed a bit of spunk. The idea of you permittin' 



74. BEYOND THE HORIZON 

him to come in to meals at all hours — and you doin' 
the work ! You ought to force him to have more con- 
sideration. I never heard of such a thin'. You mind 
my words and let him go to the kitchen and get his 
own once in a while, and see if he don't toe the mark. 
You're too easy goin', that's the trouble. 

Ruth — Do stop your nagging at me, Ma! I'm 
sick of hearing you. I'll do as I please about it ; and 
thank you for not interfering. [She wipes her moist 
forehead — wearily.] Phew! It's too hot to argue. 
Let's talk of something pleasant. [Curiously.] 
Didn't I hear you speaking about Andy a while ago.** 

Mrs. Mayo — We were wondering when he'd get 
home. 

Ruth — [Brightening.] Rob saj's any day now he's 
liable to drop in and surprise us — him and the Cap- 
tain. I wonder if he's changed much — what he'll be 
like. It'll certainly look natural to see him around 
the farm again. 

Mrs. Atkins — Let's hope the farm'll look more 
natural, too, when he's had a hand at it. The way 
thin's are now! 

Ruth — [Irritably.] Will you stop harping on 
that. Ma.'' We all know things aren't as they might 
be. What's the good of your complaining all the 
time ? 

Mrs. Atkins — There, Kate Mayo! Ain't that just 
what I told you.'' I can't say a word of advice to my 
own daughter even, she's that stubborn and self- 
willed. 



BEYOND THE HORIZON 75 

Ruth — [Putting her hands over her ears — in ex- 
asperation.] For goodness sakes, Ma! 

Mrs. Mayo — [Dully.] Never mind. Andy '11 fix 
everything when he comes. 

Ruth — [Hopefully.] Oh, yes, I know he will. He 
always did know just the right thing ought to be 
done. [With weary vexation.] It's a shame for him 
to come home and have to start in with things in such 
a topsy-turvy. 

Mrs. Mayo — Andy'll manage. 

Ruth — [Sighing.] I s'pose it isn't Rob's fault 
things go wrong with him. 

Mrs. Atkins — [Scornfully.] Hump! [She fans 
herself nervously.] Land o' Groshen, but it's bakin' 
in here ! Let's go out in under the trees in back where 
there's a breath of fresh air. Come, Kate. [Mrs. 
Mayo gets up obediently and starts to wheel the in- 
valid's chair toward the screen door.] You better 
come too, Ruth. It'll do you good. Learn him a 
lesson and let him get his own dinner. Don't be such 
a fool. 

Ruth — [Going and holding the screen door open 
for them — listlessly.] He wouldn't mind. He tells 
me never to wait — but he wouldn't know where to find 
anything. 

Mrs. Atkins — Let him go hungry then — and serve 
him right. 

Ruth — He wouldn't mind that, either. He doesn't 
eat much. But I can't go anyway. I've got to put 
baby to bed. 



76 BEYOND THE HORIZON 

Mrs. Atkins — Let's go, Kate. I'm boilin' in here. 
[Mrs. Mayo wheels her out and off left. Ruth comes 
back and sits down in her chair.l 

Ruth — [Mechanicolli^.'} Come and let me take off 
your shoes and stockings, Mary, that's a good girl. 
You've got to take your nap now. [The child con- 
tinues to play as if she hadn't heard, absorbed in her 
doll. An eager expression comes over Ruth's tired 
face. She glances toward the door furtively — then 
gets up and goes to the desk. Her movements indi- 
cate a guilty fear of discovery. She takes a letter 
from a pigeon hole and retreats swiftly to her chair 
with it. She opens the envelope and reads the letter 
with great interest, a flush of excitement coming to her 
cheeks. Robert walks up the path and opens the 
screen door quietly and comes into the room. He, too, 
has aged. His shoulders are stooped as if under too 
great a burden. His eyes are dull and lifeless, his 
face burned by the sun and unshaven for days. 
Streaks of sweat have smudged the layer of dust on 
his cheeks. His lips drawn down at the corners, give 
him a hopeless, resigned expression. The three years 
have accentuated the weakness of his mouth and chin. 
He is dressed in overalls, laced boots, and a flannel 
shirt open at the neck.^ 

Robert — [Throwing his hat over on the sofa — 
with a great sigh of exhaustion.] Phew! The sun's 
hot today! [Ruth is startled. At first she makes an 
instinctive motion as if to hide the letter in her bosom. 
She immediately thinks better of this and sits with the 



I 



BEYOND THE HORIZON 77 

letter in her hands looking at him with defiant eyes. 
He bends down and kisses her.] 

Ruth — [Feeling of her cheek — irritably.] Why 
don't you shave? You look awful. 

Robert — [Indifferently.] I forgot — and it's too 
much trouble this weather, 

Mary — [Throwing aside her doll, runs to him with 
a happy cry.] Dada ! Dada ! 

Robert — [Swinging her up above his head — lov- 
*^g^^-^ -^^^ how's this little girl of mine this hot 
day, eh? 

Mary — [Screeching happily.] Dada! Dada! 

Ruth — [In annoyance.] Don't do that to her! 
You know it's time for her nap and you'll get her all 
waked up ; then I'll be the one that'll have to sit beside 
her till she falls asleep. 

Robert — [Sitting down in the chair on the left of 
table and cuddling Mary on his lap.] You needn't 
bother. I'll put her to bed. 

Ruth — [Shortly.] You've got to get back to your 
work, I s'pose. 

Robert — [With a sigh.] Yes, I was forgetting. 
[He glances at the open letter on Ruth's lap.] 
Reading Andy's letter again? I should think you'd 
know it by heart by this time. 

Ruth — [Coloring as if she'd been accused of some- 
thing — defiantly.] I've got a right to read it, haven't 
I? He says it's meant for all of us. 

Robert — [With a trace of irritation.] Right? 
Don't be so silly. There's no question of right. I 



78 BEYOND THE HORIZON 

was only saying that you must know all that's in it 
after so many readings. 

Ruth — Well, I don't. [She puts the letter on the 
table and gets wearily to her feet.] I s'pose you'll 
be wanting your dinner now. 

Robert — [Listlessly.] I don't care. I'm not 
hungry. It's almost too hot to eat. 

Ruth — And here I been keeping it hot for you ! 

Robert — [Irritably.] Oh, all right then. Bring 
it in and I'll try to eat. 

Ruth — I've got to get her to bed first. [She goes 
to lift Mary off his lap.] Come, dear. It's after time 
and you can hardly keep your eyes open now. 

Mary — [Cryifig.] No, no, I don't wanter sleep! 
[Appealing to her father.] Dada! No! 

Ruth — [Accusiyigly to^oB:EK'T.] There! Now see 
what you've done ! I told you not to 

Robert — [Shortly.] Let her alone, then. She's 
all right where she is. She'll fall asleep on my lapj 
in a minute if you'll stop bothering her. 

Ruth — [Hotly.] She'll not do any such thing! 

She's got to learn to mind me, that she has ! [Shaking 

her finger at Mary.] You naughty child! Will you 

come with Mama when she tells you for your own 

'good ? 

Mary — [Clinging to her father.] No, Dada! 

Ruth — [Losing her temper.] A good spanking's 
what you need, my young lady — and you'll get one 
from me if you don't mind better, d'you hear.'' 
[Mary starts to whimper f right enedly.] 



I 



•: 



BEYOND THE HORIZON 79 

Robert — [With sudden anger.] Leave her alone! 
How often have I told you not to threaten her with 
whipping? It's barbarous, and I won't have it. 
That's got to be understood. [Soothing the wailing 
Mary.] There! There, little girl! Baby mustn't 
cry. Dada won't like you if you do. Dada'll hold 
you and you must promise to go to sleep like a good 
little girl. Will you when Dada asks you? 

Mary — [Cuddling up to him.] Yes, Dada. 

Ruth — [Looking at them, her pale face set and 
drawn.] I won't be ordered by you! She's my child 
as much as yours. A fine one you are to be telling 

'folks how to do things, you [She bites her lips. 

Husband and wife look into each other^s eyes with 
something akin to hatred in their expressions ; then 
Ruth turns away with a shrug of affected indiffer- 
ence.] All right, take care of her then, if you think 
it's so easy. You'll be whipping her yourself inside 
of a week. [She walks away into the kitchen.] 

Robert — [Smoothing Mary's hair — tenderly.] 
We'll show Mama you're a good little girl, won't we? 

Mary — [Crooning drowsily.] Dada, Dada. 

Robert — Let's see: Does your mother take off 
your shoes and stockings before your nap? 

Mary — [Nodding with half -shut eyes.] Yes, Dada. 

Robert — [Taking off her shoes and stockings.] 
We'll show Mama we know how to do those things, 
won't we? There's one old shoe off — and there's the 
other old shoe — and here's one old stocking — and 
there's the other old stocking. There we are, all nice 



80 BEYOND THE HORIZON 

and cool and comfy. [He bends down and kisses her.] 
And now will you promise to go right to sleep if 
Dada takes you to bed? [Mary nods sleepily.] 
That's the good little girl. [He gathers her up in 
his arms carefully and carries her into the bedroom. 
His voice can be heard faintly as he lulls the child to 
sleep. Ruth comes out of the kitchen and gets the 
plate from the table. She hears the voice from thd 
room and tiptoes to the door to look in. Then she 
starts for the kitchen but stands for a moment think- 
ing, a look of ill-concealed jealousy on her face. At 
a noise from inside she hurriedly disappears into the 
kitchen. A moment later Robert reenters. He comes 
forward and picks up the shoes and stockings which 
he shoves carelessly under the table. Then, seeing no 
one about, he goes to the sideboard and selects a book. 
Coming back to his chair, he sits down and immedi- 
ately becomes absorbed in reading. Ruth returns 
from the kitchen bringing his plate heaped with food, 
and a cup of tea. She sets those before him and sits 
down in her former place. Robert continues to read, 
oblivious to the food on the table.] 

Ruth — [After watching him irritably for a mo- 
ment.] For heaven's sakes, put down that old book! 
Don't you see your dinner's getting cold? 

Robert — [Closing his book.] Excuse me, Ruth. 
I didn't notice. [He picks up his knife and fork and 
begins to eat gingerly, without appetite.] 

Ruth — I should think you might have some feeling 
for me, Rob, and not always be late for meals. If you 



BEYOND THE HORIZON 81 

^thiiik it's fun sweltering in that oven of a kitchen to 
keep things warm for you, A'ou're mistaken. 

Robert — I'm sorry, Ruth, really I am. 

Ruth — That's what you always say ; but you keep 
coming late just the same. 

Robert — I know; and I can't seem to help it. 
Something crops up every day to delay me. I mean 
to be here on time. 

Ruth — [With a sigh.] Mean-tos don't count. 

Robert — [With a conciliating smile.] Then pun- 
ish me, Ruth. Let the food get cold and don't bother 
about me. Just set it to one side. I won't mind. 

Ruth — I'd have to wait just the same to wash up 
after you. 

Robert — But I can wash up 

Ruth — A nice mess there'd be then ! 

Robert — [With an attempt at lightness.] The 
food is lucky to be able to get cold this weather. 
[As Ruth doesn't answer or smile he opens his book 
and resumes his reading, forcing himself to take a 
mouthful of food every now and then. Ruth stares 
at him in annoyance.] 

Ruth — And besides, you've got 3-our own work 
that's got to be done. 

Robert — [Absent-mindedly, without taking his 
eyes from the book.] Yes, of course. 

Ruth — [Spitefully.] Work you'll never get done 
by reading books all the time. 

Robert — [Shutting the book with a snap.] Why 
do you persist in nagging at me for getting pleasure 



82 BEYOND THE HORIZON 

out of reading? Is it because [He checks him- 
self abruptly.] 

Ruth — [Coloring.] Because I'm too stupid to 
understand them, I s'pose you were going to say. 

Robert — [Shame-f acedly .] No — no. [In exas- 
peration.] Oh, Ruth, why do you want to pick quar- 
rels hke this? Why do you goad me into saying 
things I don't mean? Haven't I got my share of 
troubles trying to work this cursed farm without your 
adding to them? You know how hard I've tried to 
keep things going in spite of bad luck 

Ruth — [Scornfully.] Bad luck! 

Robert — And my own very apparent unfitness for 
the job, I was going to add; but you can't deny 
there's been bad luck to it, too. You know how un- 
suited I am to the work and how I hate it; and I've 
managed to fight along somehow. Why don't you 
take things into consideration? Why can't we pull 
together? We used to. I know it's hard on you also. 
Then why can't we help each other instead of hinder- 
ing? That's the only way we can make life bearable 
for each other. 

Ruth — [Sullenly.] I do the best I know how. 

Robert — [Gets up and puts his hand on, her 
shoulder.] I know you do. But let's both of us try 
to do better. We can both improve. Say a word of 
encouragement once in a while when things go wrong, 
even if it is my fault. You know the odds I've been 
up against since Pa died. I'm not a farmer. I've 
never claimed to be one. But there's nothing else 



BEYOND THE HORIZON 83 

I can do under the circumstances, and I've got to pull 
tilings through somehow. With your help, I can do it. 

With you against me [He shrugs his shoulders. 

There is a pause. Then he bends down and kisses her 
hair — with an attempt at cheerfulness.] So you 
''promise that; and I'll promise to be here when the 
clock strikes — and anything else you tell me to. Is it 
a bargain.'* 

Ruth — [Dullp.] I s'pose so. 

Robert — The reason I was late today — it's more 
bad news, so be prepared. 

Ruth — [As if this was only what she expected.] 
Oh! [They are interrupted hy the sound of a loud 
knock at the kitchen door.] There's someone at the 
kitchen door. [She hurries out. A moment later she 
reappears.] It's Ben. He says he wants to see you. 

Robert — [Frowning.] What's the trouble now, 
I wonder? [In a loud voice.] Come on in here, Ben. 
[Ben slouches in from the kitchen. He is a hulking, 
awkward young fellow with a heavy, stupid face and 
shifty, cunning eyes. He is dressed in overalls, hoots, 
etc., and wears a broad-brimmed hat of coarse straw 
pushed back on his head.] Well, Ben, what's the 
matter ? 

Ben — [DrawUngly.] The mowin' machine's bust. 

Robert — Why, that can't be. The man fixed it 
only last week. 

Ben — It's bust just the same. 

Robert — And can't you fix it? 



84 BEYOND THE HORIZON I 

Ben — No. Don't know what's the matter with the 
goll-darned thing. 'Twon't work, anyhow. 

Robert — [Getting up and going for his hat.] 
Wait a minute and I'll go look it over. There can't 
be much the matter with it. 

Ben — [Impudeiitli/.] Don't make no diff'rence 
t'me whether there be or not. I'm quittin'. 

Robert — [Anxiousli/.Ji You're quitting? You 
don't mean you're throwing up your job here? 

Ben — That's what! My month's up today and I 
want what's owin' t'me. 

Robert — But why are you quitting now, Ben, when 
you know I've so much work on hand? I'll have a 
hard time getting another man at such short notice. 

Ben — That's for you to figger. I'm quittin'. 

Robert — But what's your reason? You haven't 
any complaint to make about the way you've been 
treated, have you? 

Ben — No. 'Tain't that. [Shaking his finger.] 
Look-a-here. I'm sick o' bein' made fun at, that's 
what; an' I got a job up to Timms' place; an' I'm 
quittin' here. 

Robert — Being made fun of? I don't understand 
you. Who's making fun of you? 

Ben — They all do. When I drive down with the 
milk in the mornin' they all laughs and jokes at me — 
that boy up to Harris' and the new feller up to Slo- 
cum's, and Bill Evans down to Meade's, and all the 
rest on 'em. 

Robert — That's a queer reason for leaving me 



BEYOND THE HORIZON 85 

flat. Won't they laugh at you just the same when 
you're working for Timms ? 

Ben — They wouldn't dare to. Timms is the best 
farm hereabouts. They was laughin' at me for 
workin' for you, that's what ! " How're things up to 
the Mayo place?" they hollers every momin'. "What's 
Robert doin' now — pasturin' the cattle in the corn- 
lot.'' Is he seasonin' his hay with rain this year, same 
as last .'' " they shouts. " Or is he inventin' some 
'lectrical milkin' engine to fool them dry cows o' his 
into givin' hard cider.? " [Very much ruffled.] That's 
like they talks ; and I ain't goin' to put up with it no 
longer. Everyone's alwa^^s knowd me as a first-class 
hand hereabouts, and I ain't wantin' 'em to get no 
different notion. So I'm quittin' you. And I wants 
what's comin' to me. 

Robert — [Coldly.] Oh, if that's the case, you can 
go to the devil. 

Ben — This farm'd take me there quick 'nuff if I 
was fool 'nuff to stay. 

Robert — [Angrily.] None of 3'our damned cheek ! 
You'll get your money tomorrow when I get back 
from town — not before! 

Ben — [Turning to doorway to kitchen.] That 
suits me. [As he goes out he speaks back over his 
shoulder.] And see that I do get it, or there'll be 
trouble. [He disappears and the slamming of the 
kitchen door is heard.] 

Robert — [As Ruth comes from where she has 
been standing by the doorway and sits down dejectedly 



I 



86 BEYOND THE HORIZON 

in her old place. ] The stupid damn fool ! And now 
what about the haying? That's an example of what 
I'm up against. No one can say I'm responsible for 
that. 

Ruth — Yes you are! He wouldn't dare act that 
way with anyone else. They do like they please with 
you, because you don't know how to treat 'em. They 
think 3'ou're easy — and you are ! 

Robert — [Indignantly.^ I suppose I ought to be 
a slave driver like the rest of the farmers — stand right 
beside them all day watching every move they make, 
and work them to their last ounce of strength .? Well, 
I can't do it, and I won't do it ! 

Ruth — It's better to do that than have to ask your 
Ma to sign a mortgage on the place. 

Robert — [Distractedly.^ Oh, damn the place! 
[He walks to the window on left and stands looking 
out.^ 

Ruth — [After a pause, with a glance at Andrew's 
letter on the tahle.^ It's lucky Andy's coming back. 

Robert — [Coming back and sitting down.] Yes, 
Andy'll see the right thing to do in a jiffy. He has 
the knack of it ; and he ought to be hdme any time 
now. The Sundays overdue. Must have met with 
head winds all the way across. 

Ruth — [Anxiously.] You don't think — anything's 
happened to the boat.'' 

Robert — Trust Uncle Dick to bring her through 
all right ! He's too good a sailor to be caught nap- 
ping. Besies we'll never know the ship's here till 



BEYOND THE HORIZON 87 

Andy steps in the door. He'll want to surprise us. 
[With an affectionate smile.] I wonder if the old 
chump's changed much? He doesn't seem to from 
his letters, does he? Still the same practical hard- 
head. [Shaking his head.] But just the same I 
oubt if he'll want to settle down to a hum-drum farm 
ife, after all he's been through. 

Ruth — [Resentfully.] Andy's not like you. He 
ikes the farm. 

Robert — [Immersed in his own thoughts — eiithnr 
siastically.] Gad, the things he's seen and experi- 
enced ! Think of the places he's been ! Hong-Kong, 
Yokohoma, Batavia, Singapore, Bangkok, Rangoon, 
Bombay — all the marvelous East! And Honolulu, 
Sydney, Buenos Aires ! All the wonderful far places 
I used to dream about ! God, how I envy him ! What 
a trip ! [He springs to his feet and instinctively goes 
to the window and stares out at the horizon.^ 

Ruth — [Bitterly.] I s'pose you're sorry now you 
didn't go? 

Robert — [Too occupied with his own thoughts to 
hear her — vindictively.] Oh, those cursed hills out 
there that I used to think promised me so much ! How 
I've grown to hate the sight of them! They're like 
the walls of a narrow prison yard shutting me in from 
all the freedom and wonder of life! [He turns back 
to the room with a gesture of loathing.] Sometimes 
I think if it wasn't for you, Ruth, and — [his voice 
softening] — little Mary, I'd chuck everything up and 
walk down the road with just one desire in my heart — 



88 BEYOND THE HORIZON 



I 



to put the whole rim of the world between me and 
those hills, and be able to breathe freelj once mor 
[He shiks dozen into his choir and smiles tcifh hitti, 
self-scorn.] There I go dreaming again — my old fool 
dreams. 

Ruth — [7n a low, repressed voice — her eyes 
smoldering.] You're not the only one! 

Robert — [Bnried in his own thoughts — bitterly.] 
And And^', who's had the chance — what has he got 
out of it? His letters read like the diary of a — of a 
farmer! " We're in Singapore now. It's a dirty hole 
of a place and hotter than hell. Two of the crew 
are down with fever and we're short-handed on t 
work. I'll be damn glad when we sail again, althou^ ■ 
tacking back and forth in these blistering; seas is a 
rotten job too!" [Scornfully.] That's about the 
way he summed up his impressions of the East. Every 
port they touched at he found the same silly fault 
with. God ! The onl^'^ place he appeared to like was 
Buenos Aires — and that only because he saw the busi- 
ness opportunities in a booming country like Argen- 
tine. 

Ruth — [Her repressed voice trembling.] You 
needn't make fun of Andy. 

Robert — Perhaps I am too hard on him; but 
when I think — but what's the use? You know I wasn't 
making fun of Andy personall}'. No one loves him 
better than I do, the old chump ! But his attitude 
toward things is — is rank, in my estimation. 

Ruth — [Her eyes fashing — bit^sting into vncon- 



BEYOND THE HORIZON 89 

troUahle rage. ] You was too making fun of liim ! 
And I ain't going to stand for it ! You ought to be 
ashamed of yourself! A fine one ^oti be! [Robert 
stares at her in amazement. She continues furiously.] 
A fine one to talk about anyone else — after the way 
you've ruined everything with your lazy loafing! — 
and the stupid wa}' you do things ! 

Robert — [Angrily.] Stop that kind of talk, do 
you hear? 

Ruth — You findin' fault — with your own brother 
who's ten times the man you ever was or ever will be — 
a thing like you to be talking. You're jealous, that's 
what! Jealous because he's made a man of himself, 

while you're nothing but a — but a [She stutters 

incoherently, overcome by rage.] 

Robert — Ruth! Ruth! Don't you dare ! 

You'll be sorry for talking like that. 

Ruth — I won't ! I won't never be sorry ! I'm only 
saying what I've been thinking for years. 

» Robert — [Aghast.] Ruth! You can't mean that ! 
Ruth — ^Miat do you think — living with a man like 
you — having to suffer all the time because you've 
never been man enough to work and do things like 
other people. But no ! You never own up to that. 
You think you're so much better than other folks, with 
your college education, where you never learned a 
thing, and always reading your stupid books instead 
of working. I s'pose you think I ought to be proud 
to be your wife — a poor, ignorant thing like me! 
[Fiercely.] But I'm not. I hate it! I hate the sight 



90 BEYOND THE HORIZON 

of you! Oh, if I'd only known! If I hadn't been 
such a fool to listen to your cheap, silly, poetry talk 
that you learned out of books ! If I could have seen 
how you were in your true self — like you are now — 
I'd have killed myself before I'd have married you! 
I was sorry for it before we'd been together a month. . 
I knew what 3'OU were really like — when it was too 
late. 

Robert — [His voice raised loudly.] And now — 
I'm finding out what you're really like — what a — 
a creature I've been living with. [With a harsh 
laugh.] God! It wasn't that I haven't guessed how 
mean and small you are — but I've kept on telling my- 
self that I must be wrong — like a fool ! — like a 
damned fool ! 

Ruth — You were saying you'd go out on the road 
if it wasn't for mc. Well, you can go, and the sooner 
the better! I don't care! I'll be glad to get rid of 
you! The farm'll be better off too. There's been a 
curse on it ever since you took hold. So go ! Go and 
be a tramp like you've always wanted. It's all you're 
good for. I can get along without you, don't you 
worry. I'll get some peace. [Exulting ficrcelt/.] 
And Andy's coming back, don't forget that! He'll 
attend to things like they should be. He'll show 
what a man can do! I don't need you. Andy's 
coming ! 

Robert — [They are both standing. Robert grabs 
her by the shoulders and glares into her eyes.] What 
do you mean.? [He shakes her violently.] What are 



BEYOND THE HORIZON 91 

you thinking of? What's in your evil mind, you — 
you [His voice is a harsh shout.] 

Ruth — [In a defiant scream.] Yes I do mean it! 
I'd say it if you was to kill mo! I do love Andy. 
I do! I do! I always loved him. [Exvltantli/.] And 
he loves me! He loves me! I know he does. He al- 
wa3's did ! And you know he did, too ! So go ! Go if 
you want to ! 

Robert — [Throwing her away from him. She 
staggers back against the table — thickly.] You — 
you slut ! [He stands glaring at her as she leans back, 
supporting herself by the table, gasping for breath. 
A loud frightened whimper sounds from the awakened 
child in the bedroomi. It continues. The man and 
woman stand looking at one another in horror, the 
extent of their terrible quarrel suddenly brought home 
to them. A pause. The noise of a horse and carriage 
comes from the road before the house. The two, sud- 
denly struck by the same premonition, listen to it 
breathlessly, as to a sound heard in a dream. It stops. 
They hear Andy's voice from the road shouting a long 
hail — "Ahoy there! "] 

Ruth — [With a strangled cry of joy.] Andy! 
Andy ! [She rushes and grabs the knob of the screen 
s door, about to fling it open.] 

Robert — [In a voice of command that forces obedi- 
ence.] Stop ! [He goes to the door and gently pushes 
the trembling Ruth away fromi it. The child's cry- 
ing rises to a louder pitch.] I'll meet Andy. You 
better go in to Mar}", Ruth. [She looks at him de- 



92 BEYOND THE HORIZON 

fiantly for a moment, hut there is something in Ms 
eyes that makes her turn and walk slowly into the 
bedroom^. ] 

Andy's Voice — [In a louder shout. ^ Ahoy there, 
Rob! 

Robert — {In an answering shout of forced cheerio 
ness.] Hello, Andy! [He opens the door and walks 
out as 

[The Citrtain Falls] 



ACT TWO 

SCENE TWO 

Scene — The top of a hill on the farm. It is about 
eleven o'clock the next morning. The day is hot 
and cloudless. In the distance the sea can be 
seen. 

The top of the hill slopes downward slightly 
toward the left. A big boulder stands in the 
center toward the rear. Further right, a large 
oak tree. The faint trace of a path leading up- 
ward to it from the left foreground can be de- 
tected through the bleached, sun-scorched grass. 

Robert is discovered sitting on the boulder, 
his chin resting on his hands, staring out toward 
tJie horizon seaward. His face is pale and hag- 
gard, his expression one of utter despondency. 
Mary is sitting on the grass near him in the 
shade, playing with her doll, singing happily to 
herself. Presently she casts a curious glance at 
her father, and, propping her doll up against the 
tree, comes over and clambers to his side. 

Mary — [Pulling at his hand — solicitously.] Is 
Dada sick? 

93 



94. BEYOND THE HORIZON 

Robert — [Looking at her with a forced smile.] 
No, dear. Why? 

Mary — Then why don't he play with Mary? 

Robert — [Gently.] No, dear, not today. Dada 
doesn't feel like playing today. 

Mary — [Protestingly.] Yes, please, Dada! 

Robert — No, dear. Dada does feel sick — a little. 
He's got a bad headache. 

Mary — Let Mary see. [He bends his head. She 
pats his hair.] Bad head. 

Robert — [Kissing her — with a smile.] There! 
It's better now, dear, thank you. [She cuddles up 
close against himi There is a pause during whicU 
each of them looks out seaward.] 

Mary — [Pointing toward the sea.] Is that all 
wa-wa, Dada? 

Robert — Yes, dear. 

Mary — [Amazed by the magnitude of this concep- 
tion.] Oh-oh! [She points to the horizon.] And it 
all stops there, over farver? 

Robert — No, it doesn't stop. That line you see 
is called the horizon. It's where the sea and sky meet. 
Just beyond that is where the good fairies live. 
[Checking himself — with a harsh laugh.] But you 
mustn't ever believe in fairies. It's bad luck. And 
besides, there aren't any good fairies. [Mary looks 
up into his face with a puzzled eiXpression.] 

Mary — Then if fairies don't live there, what lives 
there ? 

Robert — [Bitterly.] God knows ! Mocking devils, 



BEYOND THE HORIZON 95 

I've. found them. [Mary frowns in puzzlement, turn- 
ing this over in lier mind. There is a pause. Finally 
Robert turns to her tenderly.^ Would you miss 
Dada very much if he went away ? 

Mary — Far — far away? 

Robert — Yes. Far, far away. 

Mary — And INIary wouldn't see him, never? 

Robert — No ; but Mary'd forget him very soon, 
I'm sure. 

Mary — [Tearfully.] No! No! Dada mustn't go 
'way. No, Dada, no ! 

Robert — Don't you like Uncle Andy — the man 
that came yesterday — not the old man with the white 
moustache — the other? 

Mary — But Dada mustn't go 'wa3\ Mary loves 
Dada. 

Robert — [With -fierce determination.] He won't 
go away, baby. He was only joking. He couldn't 
leave his little Mary. [He presses the child in his 
arms.] 

Mary — [With an exclamation of pain.] Oh! Dada 
hurts ! 

Robert — I'm sorry, little girl. [He lifts her down 
to the grass.] Go play with Doll}', that's a good 
girl; and be careful to keep in the shade. [She re- 
luctantly leaves him and taJces up her doll again. A 
moment later she points down the hill to the left.] 

Mary — Here comes mans, Dada. 

Robert — [Looking that way.] It's your Uncle 
Andy. 



96 BEYOND THE HORIZON 

Mary — Will he play wiv mc, Dada? 

Robert — Not now, dear. You nmstn't bother him. 
After a while he will, maybe. [A moment later 
Andrew comes up from the left, whistling cheerfully. 
He has changed hut little in appearance, except for 
the fact that his face has been deeply bronzed by his 
years in the tropics; but there is a decided change w 
his manner. The old easy-going good-nature seems to 
have been partly lost in a breezy, business-like brisk- 
ness of voice and gesture. There is an authoritative 
note in his speech as though he were accustomed to 
give orders and have them obeyed as a matter of 
course. He is dressed in the simple blue uniform and 
cap of a merchant ship's officer.] 

AxDREw — Here you are, eh.'* 

Robert — Hello, Andy. 

Andrew — [Going over to ]\Iary.] And who's this 
young lady I find you all alone with, eh? Who's this 
pretty young lady.'^ [He tickles the laughing, 
squirming jMary, then lifts her up at arm's length 
over his head.] Upsy — daisy! [He sets her down on 
the ground again.] And there you are! [He walks 
over and sits down on the boulder beside Robert who 
moves to one side to make room for him.] Ruth told 
me I'd probably find you up top-side here; but I'd 
have guessed it, anyway. [He digs his brother in tho 
riiis affectionately.] Still up to your old tricks, you 
old beggar! I can remember how you used to come 
up here to mope and dream in the old days. 

Robert — [With a smile.] I come up here now be- 



BEYOND THE IIOKIZON 9T 

I cause it's the coolest place on the farm. I've given 
I up dreaming. 

Andrew — [Grinning.] I don't believe it. You 
can't have changed that much. 

Robert — [Wearili/.] One gets tired of dreaming 
— when they never come true. 

Andrew — [Scrutinizing his brother's face.] 
You've changed in looks all right. You look all done 
up, as if you'd been working too hard. Better let up 
on yourself for a while. 

Robert — Oh, I'm all right ! 

Andrew — Take a fool's advice and go it easy. 
You remember — your old trouble. You wouldn't 
want that coming back on you, eh? It pays to keep 
top-notch in your case. 

Robert — [Betraying annoyance.] Oh, that's all 
a thing of the past, Andy. Forget it ! 

Andrew — Well — a word to the wise does no harm ? 
Don't be touchy about it. [Slapping his brother on 
the back.] You know I mean well, old man, even if 
I do put m}' foot in it. 

Robert — Of course, Andy. I'm not touchj^ about 
it. I don't want you to worry about dead things, 
that's all. I've a headache today, and I expect I do 
look done up. 

Andrew — Mum's the word, then ! [After a pause 
— with boyish enthusiasm.] Say, it sure brings back 
old times to be up here with you having a chin all 
by our lonesomes again. I feel great being back 
home. 



98 BEYOND THE HORIZON 

Robert — It's great for us to have you back. 

Andrew — [After a pause — meaningly.] I've been 
looking over the old place with Ruth. Things don't 
seem to be 

Robert — [His face flushing — interrupts his 
brother shortly.] Never mind the damn farm! 
There's nothing about it we don't both know by heart. 
Let's talk about something interesting. This is the 
first chance I've had to have a word with you alone. 
To the devil with the farm for the present. They 
think of nothing else at home. Tell me about your 
trip. That's what I've been anxious to hear about. 

Andrew — [With a quick glance of concern at 
Robert.] I suppose you do get an overdose of the 
farm at home. [Indignantly.] Say, I never realized 
that Ruth's mother was such an old rip 'till she talked 
to me this morning. [With a grin.] Phew! I pity 
you, Rob, when she gets on her ear ! 

Robert — She is — difficult sometimes ; but one must 
make allowances. [Again changing the subject 
abruptly.] But this isn't telling me about the trip. 

Andrew — Why, I thought I told you everything 
in my letters. 

Robert — [Smiling.] Your letters were — sketchy, 
to say the least. 

Andrew — Oh, I know ^'m no author. You needn't 
be afraid of hurting my feelings. I'd rather go 
through a typhoon again than write a letter. 

Robert — [With eager interest.] Then you were 
through a typhoon? 



BEYOND THE HORIZON 99 

Andrew — Yes — in the China sea. Had to run be- 
fore it under bare poles for two days. I thought 
we were bound down for Davy Jones, sure. Never 
dreamed waves could get so big or the wind blow so 
liard. If it hadn't been for Uncle Dick being such a 
good skipper we'd have gone to the sharks, all of us. 
As it was we came out minus a main top-mast and had 
to beat back to Hong-Kong for repairs. But I must 
' have written you all this. 

Robert — You never mentioned it. 

Andrew — Well, there was so much dirty work get- 
ting things ship-shape again I must have forgotten 
about it. 

Robert — [Looking at Andrew — marvelling.^ 

II Forget a typhoon? [With a trace of scorn.^ You're 
a strange combination, Andy. And is what you've 
told me all you remember about it? 
Andrew — Oh, I could give you j'^our bellyful of 
details if I wanted to turn loose on you ; but they're 
not the kind of things to fit in with your pretty no- 
tions of life on the ocean wave, I'll give you that 
straight. 

Robert- — [Earnestly.] Tell me. I'd like to hear 
them — honestly ! 

Andrew — What's the use? They'd make a man 
want to live in the middle of America without even 
a river in a hundred miles of him so he'd feersafe. It 
was rotten, that's what it was ! Talk about work ! I 
was wishin' the ship'd sink and give me a rest, I was 
so dog tired toward the finish. We didn't get a warm 






100 BEYOND THE HORIZON 

thing to eat for nearly two weeks. There was enough j 
China Sea in the galley to float the stove, and the fo' j 
c's'tle was flooded, too. And you couldn't sleep a 
wink. No place on the darned old tub stayed still 
long enough for j-ou to lie on it. And every one was 
soaked to the skin all the time, with green seas boiling 
over the deck keeping you busy jumping for the rat- 
lines to keep from being washed over. Oh, it was all- 
wool-and-a-yard-wide-Hell, I'll tell you. You ought 
to have been there. I remember thinking about you at ' 
the worst of it when j'ou couldn't force a breath out 
against the wind, and saying to myself : ' This'd cure 
Rob of them ideas of his about the beautiful sea, if 
he could see it.' And it would have too, you bet ! [He 
nods emphatically.] 

Robert — And you don't see any romance in that.? 

Andrew — Romance be blowed! It was hell! [As 
an afterthought.] Oh, I was forgetting ! One of the 
men was washed overboard — a Norwegian — Ollic we 
called him. [With a grin of sarcasm.] I suppose 
that's romance, eh.? Well, it might be for a fish, 
but not for me, old man ! 

Robert — [Dryly.] The sea doesn't seem to have 
impressed you very favorably. 

Andrew — I should say it didn't ! It's a dog's life. 
You work like the devil and put up with all kinds of 
hardships — for what .? For a rotten wage you'd be : 
ashamed to take on shore. 

Robert — Then ^^ou're not going to — follow it up.? 

Andrew — Not me! I'm through! I'll never set 



BEYOND THE HORIZON 101 

foot on a ship again if I can help it — except to carry 
me some place I can't get to by train. No. I've had 
enough. Dry land is the only place for me. 

RoBEKT — But you studied to become an officer ! 

Andrew — Had to do something or I'd gone mad. 
The days were like years. Nothing to look at but sea 
and sky. No place to go. A regular prison. [He 
laughs.] And as for the East you used to rave about 
— well, you ought to see it, and smell it! And the 
Chinks and Japs and Hindus and the rest of them — 
you can have them ! One walk down one of their filthy 
; narrow streets with the tropic sun beating on it would 
! sicken you for life with the " wonder and mystery " 
you used to dream of. I can say one thing for it 
though — it certainly has the stink market cornered. 

Robert — [Shrinking' from his brother with a 
glance of aversion.] So all you found in the East 
was a stench? 

Andrew — A stench ! Ten thousand of them ! That 
and the damned fever! You can have the tropics, 
old man. I never want to see them again. At that, 
there's lots of money to be made down there — for a 
white man. The natives are too lazy to work, that's 
the only trouble. 

Robert — But you did like some of the places, 
judging from your letters — Sj'dney, Buenos 
Aires 

Andrew — Yes, Sydney's a good town. [Enthusi- 
astically.] But Buenos Aires — there's the place for 
you. Argentine's a country where a fellow has a 



102 BEYOND THE HORIZON 

chance to make good. You're right I hked it. And 
I'll tell you, Rob, that's right where I'm going just as 
soon as I've seen you folks a while and can get a ship. 
I don't intend to pay for my passage now I can gel 
a berth as second officer, and I'll jump the ship when 
I get there. I'll need every cent of the wages Uncle's 
paid me to get a start at something in B. A. 

Robert — [Staring at Ms brother — slowly.] So 
you're not going to stay on the farm.'' 

Andrew — Why sure not! Did you think I was? 
There wouldn't be any sense. One of us is enough to 
run this little place. 

Robert — I suppose it does seem small to you now. 

Andrew — [Not noticing the sarcasm in Robert's 
tone.] You've no idea, Rob, what a splendid place 
Argentine is. I went around Buenos Aires quite a lot 
and got to know people — English speaking people, 
of course. The town is full of them. It's foreign 
capital that's developed the country, you know. I • 
had a letter from a marine insurance chap that I'd 
made friends with in Hong-Kong to his brother, who's 
in the grain business in Buenos Aires. He took quite ' 
a fancy to me, and what's more important, he offered 
me a job if I'd come back there. I'd have taken it on 
the spot, only I couldn't leave Uncle Dick in the lurch, 
and I'd promised you folks to come home. But I'm 
going back there very soon, you bet, and then you 
watch me get on ! [He slaps Robert on the back.] 
But don't you think it's a big chance, Rob? 

Robert — It's fine — for 3^ou, Andy. 



BEYOND THE HORIZON 103 

I Andrew — We call this a farm — but you ouglit to 
'I hear about the farms down there — ten square miles 
where we've got an acre. It's a new country where big 
,| things are opening up — and I want to get in on 
' something big before I die. That job I'm ofFered'll 
furnish the wedge. I'm no fool when it comes to farm- 
ing, and I know something about grain. I've been 
reading up a lot on it, too, lately. [He notices 
, Robert's absent-mmded expression and laughs.] 
' Wake up, you old poetry book worm, you ! I know 

I my talking about business makes you want to choke 
me, doesn't it? 

Robert — [With an embarrassed smile.] No, 

Andy, I — I just happened to think of something else. 

j [Fromning.] There've been lots of times lately that 

' I've wished I had some of your faculty for business. 

Andrew — [Soberly.] There's something I want 

to talk about, Rob, — the farm. You don't mind, do 

'iyou? 

II Robert — No. 

• Andrew — I walked over it this morning with Ruth 

— and she told me about things [Evasively.] 

i — the hard luck you'd had and how things stood at 
' present — and about your thinking of raising a mort- 
gage. 

Robert — [Bitterly.] It's all true I guess, and 
probably worse than she told you. 
I Andrew — I could see the place had run down ; but 
I you mustn't blame yourself. When luck's against 
I anyone 



10^ BEYOND THE HORIZON 

Robert — Don't, Andy ! It is my fault — my in- 
ability. You know it as well as I do. The best I've 
ever done was to make ends meet, and this year I can't 
do that without the mortgage. 

Andrew — [After a pause.] You mustn't raise the 
mortgage, Rob. I've got over a thousand saved, and 
3'ou can have that. 

Robert — [Firmli/.] No. You need that for your 
start in Buenos Aires. 

Andrew — I don't. I can 

Robert — [Determinedly.] No, Andy! Once and 
for all, no ! I won't hear of it ! 

Andrew — [Protest in gly.] You obstinate old son 
of a gun! [There is a pause.] Well, I'll do the best 
I can while I'm here. I'll get a real man to superin- 
tend things for 3-ou — if he can be got. That'll re- 
lieve you some. If he gets results, you can afford to 
pay him. 

Robert — Oh, everything'U be on a sound footing 
after harvest. Don't worry about it. 

Andrew — [Doubtfully.] Maybe. The prospects 
don't look so bad, 

Robert — And then I can pay the mortgage off 
again. It's just to tide over. 

Andrew — [After a pause.] I wish you'd let me 
help, Rob. 

Robert — [With a tone of finality.] No. Please 
don't suggest it any more. My mind's made up on 
that point. 

Andrew — [Slapping his brother on the back — 



BEYOND THE HORIZON 105 

with forced joviality.] Well, anyway, you've got to 
promise to let me step in when I've made my pile ; and 
I'll make it down there, I'm certain ; and it won't take 
me long, either. 

Robert — I've no doubt you will with your deter- 
mination. 

Andrew — I'll be able to pay off all the mortgages 
you can raise! Still, a mortgage isn't such a bad 
thing at that — it makes a place heaps easier to sell — 
and you may want to cut loose from this farm some 
day — come down and join me in Buenos Aires, that's 
the ticket, 

Robert — If I had only myself to consider 

Andrew — Yes, I suppose they wouldn't want to 
come. [After a pau^e.] It's too bad Pa couldn't 
have lived to see things through. [With feeling.] 
It cut me up a lot — hearing he was dead. Tell me 
about it. You didn't say much in your letter. 

Robert — [Evasively.] He's at peace, Andy. 
It'll onl}' make you feel bad to talk of it. 

Andrew — He never — softened up, did he — about 
me, I mean? 

Robert — He never understood, that's a kinder way 
of putting it. He does now. 

Andrew — [After a pause.] \''ou've forgotten all 
about what — caused me to go, haven't you Rob? 
[Robert nods hut keeps his face averted.] I was a 
slushier damn fool in those days than you were. But 
it was an act of Providence I did go. It opened my 
eyes to how I'd been fooling myself. Why, I'd for- 



106 BEYOND THE HORIZON 

gotten all about — that — before I'd been at sea six 
months. 

Robert — [Turns and looks into Andrew's eyes 
searchingly.] You're speaking of — Ruth? 

Andrew — [Confused.^ Yes. I didn't want you to 
get false notions in your head, or I wouldn't say any- 
thing. [Looking Robert squarely in the eyes.] I'm 
telling you the truth when I say I'd forgotten long 
ago. It don't sound well for me, getting over things 
so easy, but I guess it never really amounted to more 
than a kid idea I was letting rule me. I'm certain 
now I never was in love — I was getting fun out of 
thinking I was — and being a hero to myself. [He 
heaves a great sigh of relief.] There! Gosh, I'm 
glad that's off my chest. I've been feeling sort of 
awkward ever since I've been home, thinking of what 
you two might think. [A trace of appeal in his 
voice.] You've got it all straight now, haven't you, 
Rob.? 

Robert — [In a low voice.] Yes, Andy. 

Andrew — And I'll tell Ruth, too, if I can get up 
the nerve. She must feel kind of funny having me 
round — after what used to be — and not knowing how 
I feel about it. 

Robert — [Slowly.] Perhaps — for her sake — 
you'd better not tell her. 

Andrew — For her sakcf* Oh, you mean she 
wouldn't want to be reminded of my foolishness.'' 
Still, I think it'd be worse if 

Robert — [Breaking out — in an agonized voice.] 



BEYOND THE HORIZON 107 

Do as you please, Andy ; but for God's sake, let's not 
talk about it! [There is a pause. Andrew stares at 
Robert in hurt stupefaction. Robert continues af- 
ter a moment in a voice which he vainly attempts to 
keep calm.] Excuse me, Andy. This rotten head- 
ache has my nerves shot to pieces. 

Andrew — [Alumhling.] It's all right, Rob — long 
as you're not sore at mc. 

Robert — Where did Uncle Dick disappear to this 
morning.'* 

Andrew — He went down to the port to see to 
things on the Sunda. He said he didn't know exactly 
when he'd be back. I'll have to go down and tend to 
the ship when he comes. That's why I dressed up in 
these togs. 

Mary — [Pointing down the hill to the left.] See 
Dada ! Mama ! Mama ! [She jumps to her feet and 
starts to run down the path.] 

Andrew — [Standing and looking down.] Yes, 
here comes Ruth. Must be looking for you, I guess. 
[Jumping forward and stopping Mary.] Hey up! 
You mustn't run down hill like that, little girl. You'll 
take a bad fall, don't you know it? 

Robert — Stay here and wait for your mother, 
Mary. 

Mary — [Struggling to her feet.] No! No! 
Mama ! Dada ! 

Andrew — Here she is ! [Ruth appears at left. 
She is dressed in white, shows she has been fixing up. 
She looks pretty, flushed and full of life.] 



108 BEYOND THE HORIZON 

Mary — [Rimn'in^; to her mother.] Mania ! 

Rt'th — fA'i.s'.s7'//<,>- her.] Hollo, dojir! [She zcalks 
toward the roek and addresses Robert eoldly.~\ Jake 
wants to see you about something. He finished work- 
ing wliere he was. He's waiting for you at the road. 

RonKUT — [Getting up — 'icearUy.] I'll go down 
riglit away. [As he looks at Ruth, noting her 
ehanged a p pea ranee, his faee darkens with pain.] 

RiTH — And take Mar}- with you, please. [To 
Mary.] Go with Dada, that's a good girh Grandma 
has your dinner most ready for you. 

Robert — [Shortly.] Come, Mary! 

Mary — [Taking his hand and daneing happily be- 
side him.] Dada! Dada! [They go down the hill to 
the left. Ruth looks after them for tt moment, 
froicning — then turns to Andy with a smile.] I'm 
going to sit down. Come on, Andy. It'll be like old 
times. [She jumps lightly to the top of the roek and 
sits down.] It's so fine and cool up licrc after the 
house. 

Andrew — [Half -sitting on the side of theboulder.] 
Yes. It's great. 

Ruth — I've taken a holiday in lionor of your ar- 
rival — from work in the kitchen. [Laughing ex- 
citedly.] I feel so free I'd like to have wings and fly 
over the sea. You're a man. You can't know how 
awful and stupid it is — cooking and wasliing dishes 
all the time. 

Andrew — [Making a wry face.] I can guess. 

Ruth — Besides, your mother just insisted on get- 



BEYOND THE HORIZON 109 

ting your first dinner to home, she's that happy at 
havinf^ jou back. You'd think I was planning to 
poison you the flurried way she shooed me out of the 
kitchen. 

Andrew — That's just hkc Ma, bless her! 

Ruth — She's missed you terrible. We all have. 
And you can't deny the farm has, after what I showed 
you and told you when we was looking over the place 
this morning. 

Andrew — [ With a frown.] Things are run down, 
that's a fact ! It's too darn hard on poor old Rob. 

Ruth — [Scornfully.] It's his own fault. He 
never takes any interest in things. 

Andrew — [Reprovingly.] You can't blame him. 
He wasn't born for it ; but I know he's done his best 
for your sake and the old folks and the little girl. 

Ruth — [Indifferently.] Yes, I suppose nc has. 
\Gaily.] But thank the Lord, all those days are over 
now. The " hard luck " Rob's always blaming won't 
last long when you take hold, Andy. All the farm's 
ever needed was someone with the knack of looking 
ahead and preparing for what's going to happen. 

Andrew — Yes, Rob hasn't got that. He's frank 
to own up to that himself. I'm going to try and hire 
a good man for him — an experienced farmer — to work 
the place on a salary and percentage. That'll take it 
off of Rob's hands, and he needn't be worrying him- 
self to death any more. He looks all worn out, Ruth. 
He ought to be careful. 

Ruth — [Absent-mindedly.] Yes, I s'pose. [Her 



110 BEYOND THE HORIZON 

mind is filled with premonitions by the first part of his 
statement.] 

Andrew — It would be a good idea if Rob could 
pull out of here — get a job in town on a newspaper, 
or something connected with writing — and this plan of 
mine'd give him a chance. 

Ruth — [Vaguely.] He's always wanted to get 
away. [Suspiciously.] Why do you want to hire a 
man to oversee things? Seems as if now that you're 
back it wouldn't be needful. 

Andrew — Oh, of course I'll attend to everything 
while I'm here. I mean after I'm gone. 

Ruth — [As if she couldn't believe her ears.] Gone ! 

Andrew — Yes. When I leave for the Argentine 
again. 

Ruth — [Aghast.] You're going away to sea 
again ! 

Andrew — Not to sea, no ; I'm through with the sea 
for good as a job. I'm going down to Buenos Aires 
to get in the grain business. 

Ruth — But — that's way far off — isn't it.? 

Andrew — [Easily.] Six thousand miles more or 
less. It's quite a trip. [With enthusiasm.] I've got 
a peach of a chance down there, Ruth. Ask Rob if 
I haven't. I've just been telling him all about it. I 
won't bother you by repeating. Rob can tell you. 

Ruth — [A flush of anger coming over her face.] 
And didn't he try to stop you from going? 

Andrew — [In surprise.] No, of course not. Why? 



BEYOND THE HORIZON 111 

Ruth — [Slowly and vindictiveli/.] That's just like 
him' — not to. 

Andrew — [Resentfully.] Rob's too good a chum 
to try and stop me when he knows I'm set on a thing. 
I And he could see just as soon's I told him what a good 
chance it was. You ask him about it. 

Ruth — [Dazedly.] And you're bound on going.'' 

Andrew — Sure thing. Oh, I don't mean right off. 
I'll have to wait for a ship sailing there for quite a 
while, likely. Anyway, I want to stay to home and 
visit with you folks a spell before I go. 

Ruth — [Dumbly.] I s'pose. [With sudden an- 
guish.] Oh, Andy, you can't go! You can't. Why 
we've all thought — we've all been hoping and praying 
you was coming home to stay, to settle down on the 
farm and see to things. You mustn't go! Think of 
how your Ma'll take on if you go — and how the 
f arm'll be ruined if you leave it to Rob to look after. 
You can see that. 

Andrew — [Frowning.] Rob hasn't done so bad. 
When I get a man to direct things the farm'll be safe 
enough. 

Ruth — [Insistently.] But your Ma — think of 
her. 

Andrew — She's used to me being away. She won't 
object when she knows it's best for her and all of us 
for me to go. You ask Rob. In a couple of years 
down there I'll make my pile, see if I don't ; and then 
I'll come back and settle down and turn this farm 
to the crackiest place in the whole state. In the mean- 



lis BEYOND THE HORIZON 



I 



time, I can help yon both from down the 
[Earnestly.] I tell you, Ruth, I'm going to mak 
good right from the minute I land, if working hard 
and a determination to get on can do it; and I knoxo 
they can ! I'll have money and lots of it before long, 
and none of you'll have to worry about this pesky 
little farm any more. [Excitedly — in a rather boast- 
ful tone.] I tell you, I feel ripe for bigger things 
than settling down here. The trip did that for me, 
anywa}'. It showed me the world in a larger proposi- 
tion than ever I thought it was in the old days. I 
couldn't be content any more stuck here like a fly in 
molasses. There ain't enough to do. It all seems 
trifling, somehow. You ought to be able to under- 
stand what I feel. 

Ruth — [Dully.] Yes — I s'pose I ought. 

Andrew — I felt sure you'd see; and wait till Rob 
tells you about 

Ruth — [A dim suspicion forming in her mind — 
interrupting him.] What did he tell you — about me? 

Andrew — Tell? About you.? Why, nothing. 

Ruth — [Staring at hitn intensely.] Are you tell- 
ing me the truth, Andy Mayo? Didn't he say — 
I [She stops confusedly.] 

Andrew — [Surprised.] No, he didn't mention 
you, I can remember. Why.'' What made you think 
he did? 

Ruth — [Wringing her hands.] Oh, I wish I could 
tell if you're lying or not ! 

Andrew — [Indignantly.] What're you talking 



BEYOND THE IIOIIIZOX 113 

bout? I didn't used to lie to you, did I? And what 
n the name of God is there to lie for? 
Ruth — [Still unconvinced.] Are you sure — will 

ou swear — it isn't the reason [She lowers her 

yes and half turns away from him.] The same 
ason that made you go last time that's driving you 
way again? 'Cause if it is — I was going to say — 
ou mustn't go — on that account, [Her voice gink* 
o a tremulous, tender whisper as she finishes.] 

Andrew — [Confuted — forces a laugh.] Oh, is 
that what you're driving at? Well, you needn't 

worry about that no more [Soberly.] I don't 

blame you, Ruth, feeling embarrassed having me 
around again, after the way I played the dumb fool 
about going away last time. You'll have to put it 
down to me jast being young and foolish and not re- 
sponsible for my actions — and forgive me and forget 
it. Will you? 

Ruth — [In anguish buries her face in her hands.] 
I Oh, Andy ! 

AxDREw — [Misunderstanding.] I know I oughtn't 
to talk about such foolishness to you. Still I figure 
it's better to get it out of my system go's we three can 
be together same's years ago, and not be worried 
thinking one of us might have the wrong notion. No, 
don't you fret about me having any such reason for 
going this time. I'm not a calf any more. Why 
honest, Ruth, before the ship got to Hong Kong I'd 
near forgot all that part of it. All I remembered was 



114 BEYOND THE HORIZON 

the awful scrap I'd had with Pa — and I was darned 
cut up about that. 

Ruth — Andy ! Please ! Don't ! 

Andrew — Let me finish now that I've started. It'll 
help clear things up. I don't want you to think once 
a fool always a fool, and be upset all the time I'm 
here on my fool account. I want you to believe I put 
all that silly nonsense back of me a long time ago— 
and now — it seems — well — as if you'd always been 
my sister, that's what, Ruth. 

Ruth — [At the end of her endurance — laughing' 
hysterically .\ For God's sake, Andy — won't you 
please stop talking ! [She again hides her face in her 
hands, her bowed shoulders trembling.] 

Andrew — [Ruefully.] Seem's if I put my foot in 
it whenever I open my mouth today. Rob shut me up 
with almost them same words when I tried speaking 
to him about it. 

Ruth — [Fiercely.] You told him — what you've „j 
told me? 

Andrew — [Astounded.] Why sure! Why not.? 

Ruth — [Shuddering.] Oh, my God! 

Andrew — [AlarvT^d.] Why? Shouldn't I have? 

Ruth — [Hysterically.] Oh, I don't care what you 
do! I don't care! Leave me alone! [Andrew gets 
up and walks down the hill to the left, embarrassedt 
hurt, and greatly puzzled by her behavior.] 

Andrew — [After a pause — pointing down the 
hill.] Hello! Here they come back — and the Cap- 
tain's with them. How'd he come to get back so soon, 



BEYOND THE HORIZON 115 

I wonder? That means I've got to hustle down to the 
port and get on board. Rob's got the baby with him. 
[He comes hack to the boulder. Ruth keeps her face 
averted from him.] Gosh, I never saw a father so tied 
up in a kid as Rob is! He just watches every move 
she makes. And I don't blame him. You both got a 
right to feel proud of her. She's surely a little win- 
ner. [He glances at Ruth to see if this very obvious 
attempt to get back in her good graces is having any 
effect.] I can see the likeness to Rob standing out 
all over her, can't you? But there's no denying she's 
your young one, either. There's something about her 
eyes 



Ruth — [Piteously.] Oh, Andy, I've a headache! 
I don't want to talk! Leave me alone, won't you 
please ? 

Andrew — [Stands staring at her for a moment — 
then walks away saying in a hurt tone.] Everybody 
hereabouts seems to be on edge today. I begin to feel 
as if I'm not wanted around. [He stands near the 
path, left, kicking at the grass with the toe of his 
shoe. A moment later Captain Dick Scott enters, 
followed by Robert carrying Mary. The Captain 
seems scarcely to have changed at all from the jovial, 
booming person he was three years before. He wears 
a uniform similar to Andrew's. He is puffing and 
breathless from his climb and mops wildly at his per- 
spiring countenance. Robert casts a quick glance 
at Andrew, noticing the latter's discomfited look, and 
then turns his eyes on Ruth who, at their approach^ 



a 



t 



116 BEYOND THE HORIZON 

has moved so her hack is toward them, her chin rest 
ing on her hands as she stares out seaward.] 

Mary — Mama ! Mama ! [Robert puts her down 
and she runs to her mother. Ruth turns and grah» 
her up in her arms with a sudden -fierce tendernesg, 
quickly turning away again from the others. During 
the following scene she keeps Mary in her arms.\ 

Scott — [Wheezily.] Phew! I got great news for 
you, Andy. Let me get my wind first. Phew ! God 
A'miglity, mountin' tliis damned hill is worser'n goin' 
aloft to the skys'l yard in a blow. I got to lay to 
a while. [He sits down on the grass, mopping his 
face.] 

Andrew — I didn't look for you this soon, Uncle. 

Scott — I didn't figger it, neither ; but I run across 
a bit o' news down to the Seamen's Home made me 
'bout ship and set all sail back here to find you. 

Andrew — [Eagerly.] Wliat is it, Uncle? 

Scott — Passin' by the Home I thought I'd drop in 
an' let 'em know I'd be lackin' a mate next trip count 
o' your leavin'. Their man in charge o' the shippin' 
asked after you 'special curious. ' Do you think he'd 
consider a berth as Second on a steamer, Captain?* 
he asks. I was goin' to say no when I thinks o' you 
wantin' to get back down south to the Plate agen ; so 
I asks him: 'What is she and where's she bound?' 
' She's the El Paso, a brand new tramp,' he says, 
* and she's bound for Buenos Aires.' 

Andrew — [His eyes lighting up — excitedly.] 
Gosh, that is luck! When does she sail? 



BEYOND THE HORIZON 117 

Scott — Tomorrow mornin'. I didn't know if 
you'd want to ship away agcn so quick an' I told him 
so. ' Tell him I'll hold the berth open for him until 
late this afternoon,' he says. So I said I'd tell you 
an' I catches the first car back to town. So there you 
be, an' you can make your own choice. 

Andrew — I'd like to take it. There may not be 
another ship for Buenos Aires with a vacancy in 
months. [His eyes roving from Robert to Ruth and 
hack again — uncertainly. \ Still — damn it all — to- 
morrow morning is soon. I wish she wasn't leaving 
for a week or so. That'd give me a chance — it seems 
hard to go right awa}^ again when I've just got home. 

And yet it's a chance in a thousand {Appealing 

to Robert.] What do you think, Rob.'* What would 
you do..'' 

Robert — [Forcing a sm^le^i He who hesitates, 
you know. [Frowning.^ It's a piece of good luck 
thrown in your way — and — f roni what you've told me 
of your plans — I think you owe it to yourself to jump 
at it. But don't ask me to decide for you. 

Ruth — [Turning to look at Andrew — vn a tone 
of fierce resentment.] Yes go, Andy! [She turns 
quickly away again. There is a moment of embar- 
rassed silence.] 

Andrew — [Thoughtfully.] Yes, I guess I will. 
It'll be the best thing for all of us in the end, don't 
you think so, Rob? [Robert nods but remains 
silent. 1 



118 BEYOND THE HORIZON 

Scott — [Getting to his feet.] Then, that's 
settled. 

Andrew — [Now that he has definitely made a de- 
cision his voice rings with hopeful strength and 
energy.] Yes, I'll take the berth. The sooner I go 
the sooner I'll be back, that's a certainty ; and I won't 
come back with empty hands next time. You bet I 
won't ! 

Scott — You ain't got so much time, Andy. To 
make sure you'd best leave here soon's you kin. You 
can't put too much trust in them fellers. I got to 
get right back aboard. You'd best come with me. 

Andrew — I'll go to the house and repack my bag 
right away. 

Robert — [Quietly.] You'll both be here for din- 
ner, won't you.^* 

Andrew — [Worriedly.] I don't know. Will there 
be time ? What time is it now, I wonder ? 

Robert — [Reproachfully.] Ma's been getting 
dinner especially for you, Andy. 

Andrew — [Flushing — shamefacedly.] Hell! And 
I was forgetting! I'm a damn fool. Of course I'll 
stay for dinner if I missed every damned ship in the 
world. [He turns to the Captain — briskly.] Come 
on, Uncle. Walk down with me to the house and you 
can tell me more about this berth on the way, I've 
got to pack before dinner. [He and the Captain 
start down to the left. Andrew calls back over his 
shoulder.] You're coming soon, aren't you, Rob? 

Robert — Yes. I'll be right down. [Andrew and 



BEYOND THE HORIZON 119 

tJie Captain leave. Ruth puts Mary on the ground 
and hides her face in her hands. Her shoulders shake 
as if she were sobbing. Robert stares at her with a 
grim, somber expression. Mary walks backward 
toward Robert, her wondering eyes fixed on her 
mother.] 

Mary — [Her voice vaguely frightened, taking her 
father's hand.] Dada, Mama's cry in', Dada. 

Robert — [Bending down and stroking her hair — 
in a voice he endeavors to keep from being harsh.] 
No, she isn't, little girl. The sun hurts her eyes, 
that's all. Aren't you beginning to feel hungry, 
Mary ? 

Mary — [Decidedly.] Yes, Dada. 

Robert — [Meaningly.] It must be your dinner 
time now. 

Ruth — [In a muffled voice.] I'm coming, Mary. 
[She wipes her eyes quickly and, without looking at 
Robert, comes and takes Mary's hand — in a dead 
voice.] Come on and I'll get your dinner for you. 
[She walks out left, her eyes fixed on the ground, the 
skipping Mary tugging at her hand. Robert waits 
a moment for them to get ahead and then slowlyi 
follows as 

[The Curtain Falls] 



I 



BEYOND THE HORIZON 
ACTIU 



ACT THREE 

SCENE ONE 

BcENE — Same as Act Two, Scene One — The sitting 
room of the farm hoiise about six o'clock in the 
morning of a day toward the end of October -five 
years later. It is not yet daxvn, but as the action 
progresses the darkness outside the windows 
gradually fades to grey. 

The room, seen by the light of the shadeless oil 
lamp with a smoky chimney which stands on the 
table, presents an appearance of decay, of dis- 
solution. The curtains at the windows are torn 
and dirty and one of them is missing. The closed 
desk is grey with accumulated dust as if it had 
not been used in years. Blotches of dampness 
disfigure the wall paper. Threadbare trails, 
leading to the kitchen and outer doors, show in 
the faded carpet. The top of the coverless table 
is stained with the imprints of hot dishes and spilt 
food. The rung of one rocker has been clumsily 
mended with a piece of plain board. A brown 
coating of rust covers the unblacked stove. A 
pile of wood is stacked up carelessly against the 
wall by the stove. 

123 



124 BF.YOND THE HORIZON 

The whole atmosphere of the room, contrasted 
with that of former years, is one of an habitual 
poverty too hopelessly resigned to he any longer 
ashamed or even conscious of itself. 

At the rise of the curtain Ruth is discovered 
sitting by the stove, with hands outstretched to 
the warmth as if the air in the room were damp 
and cold. A heavy shawl is wrapped about her 
shoulders, half-concealing her dress of deep 
mourning. She has aged horribly. Her pale, 
deeply lined face has the stony lack of expression 
of one to whom nothing more can ever happen, 
whose capacity for emotion has been exhausted. 
When she speaks her voice is without timbre, low 
and monotonous. The negligent disorder of her 
dress, the slovenly arrangement of her hair, now 
streaked with grey, her muddied shoes run down 
at the heel, give full evidence of the apathy in 
which she lives. 

Her mother is asleep in her wheel chair beside 
the stove toward the rear, wrapped up in a 
blanket. 

There is a sound from the open bedroom door 
in the rear as if someone were getting out of bed. 
Ruth turn^ in that direction with a look of dull 
annoyance. A moment later Robert appears in 
the doorway, leaning weakly against it for sup- 
port. His hair is long and unkempt, his face\ 
and body emaciated. There are bright patches 
of crimson over his cheek bones and his eyes are 



BEYOND THE HORIZON 125 

burning with fever. He is dressed in corduroy 
pants, a flannel shirt, and wears worn carpet 
slippers on his bare feet. 

Ruth — [Didly.] S-s-s-h-h! Ma's asleep. 
\\ Robert — [Speaking with an effort.] I -won't wake 
'her. [He walks weaMy to a rocker by the side of the 
mable and sinks down in it exhausted.] 
I Ruth — [Staring at the stove.] You better come 
near the fire where it's warm. 

RoBEKT — No. I'm buiTiing up now. 

Ruth — That's the fever. You know the doctor 
told 3'ou not to get up and move round. 

Robert — [Irritably.] That old fossil! He doesn't 
know anything. Go to bed and stay there — that's his 
only prescription. 

Ruth — [Indifferently.] How are you feeling 
now? 

Robert — [Buoyantly.] Better! Much better 
than I've felt in ages. Really I'm quite healthy now 
— only very weak. It's the turning point, I guess. 
From now on I'll pick up so quick I'll surprise you — 
and no thanks to that old fool of a country quack, 
cither. 

Ruth — He's always tended to us. 

Robert — Always helped us to die, you mean ! He 
" tended" to Pa and Ma and — (his voice breaks) — 
and to — Mary. 

Ruth — [DuUy.] He did the best he knew, I s'pose. 



126 BEYOND THE HORIZON 

[After a pause.] Well, Andy's bringing a specialist 
with him when he comes. That ought to suit you. 

Robert — [Bitterly/.] Is that why you're waiting 
up all night.? 

Ruth — Yes. 

Robert — For Andy.'' 

Ruth — [Withoiit a trace of feeling.] Somebody 
had got to, when he's bringing that doctor with him. 
You can't tell when he might get here if he's coming 
from the port in an auto like he telegraphed us. And 
besides it's only right for someone to meet him after 
he's been gone five years. 

Robert — [With bitter mockery.] Five years! 
It's a long time. 

Ruth — Yes. 

Robert — [Meaningly.] To wait! 

Ruth — [hidiffercntly.] It's past now. 

Robert^- Yes, it's past. [After a pause.] Have 
you got his two telegrams with you.'' [Ruth nods.] 
Let me see them, will you.'' My head was so full of 
fever when they came I couldn't make head or tail 
to them. [Hastily.] But I'm feeling fine now. Let 
me read them again. [Ruth takes them from the 
bosom of her dress and hands them to him.] 

Ruth — Here. The first one's on top. 

Robert — [Operiingit.] New York. " Just landed 
from steamer. Have important business to wind up 
here. Will be home as soon as deal is completed.'* 
[He smiles bitterly.] Business first was always Andy's 
motto. [He reads.] " Hope you are all well. Andy.'* 



BEYOND THE HORIZON 127 

He repeats ironically.^ "Hope you are all well!" 

Ruth — [Dully.] He couldn't know you'd been 
took sick till I answered that and told him. 

Robert — [Contritely.] Of course he couldn't. 
You're right. I'm a fool. I'm touchy about nothing 
latel}'. Just what did 3'ou say in your reply? I 
forget. 

Ruth — [Inconsequentially.] I had to send it col- 
lect. [Robert frowns.] I wrote you were pretty 
low and for him to huiTy up here, 

Robert — [Irritably.] He'll think I'm dying or 
some such foolishness. What an idiotic exaggeration ! 
What did you say was the matter with me ? Did you 
mention that .? 

Ruth — I wrote you had lung trouble — just those 
two words. [Dully.] The boy said it wouldn't cost 
any more for two words. 

Robert — [Flying into a petty temper.] You are 
a fool! How often have I explained to you that it's 
pleurisy is the matter with me. You can't seem to get 
it in your head that the pleura is outside the lungs, 
not in them I 

Ruth — [Callously.] I only wrote what Doctor 
Smith told me. 

Robert — [Angrily.] He's a damned ignoramus! 

Ruth — [Dully.] Makes no difference. I had to 
tell Andy something, didn't 1? 

Robert — [After a pause, opening the other tele- 
gram.] He sent this last evening. Let's see. [He 
reads.] "Leave for home on midnight train. Just 



128 BEYOND THE HORIZON 

received your wire. Am bringing specialist to see 
Rob. Will motor to farm from Port." [He calcu- 
lates.] The midnight gets in the Port about four- 
thirty, I think, or five. It should take a car an hour 
or more to get here. What time is it now? 

Ruth — Round six, must be. 

Robert — He ought to be here soon. I'm glad he's 
bringing a doctor who knows something. I'm tired 
of being at the mercy of that cheap old quack. A 
specialist will tell you in a second that there's nothing 
the matter with my lungs. 

Ruth — [StoUdli^.] You've been coughing an 
awful lot lately. 

Robert — [Irritably.] What nonsense! For God's 
sake, haven't you ever had a bad cold yourself? 
[Ruth stares at the stove in silence. Robert fidgets 
in his chair. There is a pause. Finally Robert's 
eyes are -fixed on the sleeping Mrs. Atkins.] Your 
mother is lucky to be able to sleep so soundly. 

Ruth — Ma's tired. She's been sitting up with 
me most of the night. 

Robert — [Mockingly.] Is she waiting for Andy, 
too.'* [There is a pause. Robert sighs.] I couldn't 
get to sleep to save my soul. I counted ten million 
sheep if I counted one. No use! My brain kept 
pounding out thoughts as if its life depended on it. 
I gave up trying finally and just laid there in the 
dark thinking. [He pauses, then continues in a tone 
of tender sympathy.] I was thinking about you, 



BEYOND THE HORIZON 129 

Ruth — of how hard these last j^ears must have been 
for you. [Appealingly.] I'm sorry, Ruth. 

Ruth — [In a dead voice.] I don't know. They're 
past now. They were hard on all of us. 

Robert — Yes; on all of us but Andy. [With a 
flash of sick jealousy.] Andy's made a big success 
of himself — the kind he wanted. He's got lots of 
money and, I suppose, a reputation for being a sharp 
business man. [Mockinglt/.] ^Vliat else is there in 
life to wish for, eh, Ruth? And now he's coming 
home to let us admire his greatness. [Frowning — 
irritabl?/.] What does it matter? What am I talking 
about? My brain must be sick, too. [After a pause.] 
Yes, these years have been terrible for both of us. 
[His voice is lowered to a trembling whisper.] 
Especially the last eight months since Mary — died. 
[He forces back a sob with a convulsive shudder — 
then breaks out in a passionate agony. ] Our last hope 
of happiness! I could curse God from the bottom 
of my soul — if there was a God! [He is racked by 
a violent fit of coughing and hurriedly puts his hand- 
kerchief to his lips.] 

Ruth — [Without looking at him.] Mary's better 
off — ^being dead. 

Robert — [Gloomily.] We'd all be better off for 
that matter. [With sudden exasperation.] You tell 
that mother of yours she's got to stop saying that 
Mary's death was due to a weak constitution inherited 
from me. [On the verge of tears of weakness.] It's 
got to stop, I tell you! 



130 BEYOND THE HORIZON 

Ruth — [Sullenly.] She's only saying what Doctor 
Smith said. 

Robert — [Fiercel2^.] He's an old ass, and I'll tell 
him if 

Ruth — [Sharply.] S-h-Ii! You'll wake her; and 
then she'll nag at me — not you. 

Robert — [Coughs and lies hack in his chair 
weaMy — a pause.] It's all because your mother's 
down on me for not begging Andy for help when 
things got worse here. 

Ruth — [Resentfully.] You might have. He's got 
plenty, if what he says is true. 

Robert — How can you of all people think of 
taking money from him? 

Ruth — [Dully.] I don't see the harm. He's your 
own brother. 

Robert — [Shrugging his shoulders.] What's the 
use of talking to you? Well, I couldn't. [Proudly.] 
And I've managed to keep things going, thank God. 
You can't deny that without help I've succeeded 

in [He breaks off with a bitter laugh.] My 

God, what am I boasting of? Debts to this one and 
that, taxes, interest unpaid! I'm a fool! [He lies 
back in his chair closing his eyes for a moment, then 
speaks in a low voice.] I'll be frank, Ruth. I've been 
an utter failure, and I've dragged you with me. I 
couldn't blame you in all justice — for hating me. 

Ruth — [Without feeling.] I don't hate you. It's 
been my fault too, I s'pose. 



BEYOND THE HORIZON 131 

Robert — No. You couldn't help loving — Andy. 

Ruth — [Dully.] I don't love anyone. 

RoBEKT — [Waving her remark aside.] You needn't 
deny it. It doesn't matter. [After a pause — with a 
tender smile.] Do you know Ruth, what I've been 
dreaming back there in the dark? [With a short 
laugh.] It may sound silly of me but — I was plan- 
ning our future when I get well. [He looks at her 
with appealing eyes as if afraid she will sneer at him. 
Her expression does not change. She stares at the 
stove. His voice takes on a note of eagerness.] After 
all, why shouldn't we have a future? We're young 
yet. If we can only shake off the curse of this farm ! 
It's the farm that's iniined our lives, damn it! And 
now that Andy's coming back — I'm going to sink my 
foolish pride, Ruth ! I'll borrow the money from him 
to give us a good start in the city. We'll go where 
people live instead of stagnating, and start all over 
again. [Confidently.] I won't be the failure there 
that I've been here, Ruth. You won't need to be 
ashamed of me there. I'll prove to you the reading 
I've done can be put to some use. [Vaguely.] I'll 
write, or something of that sort, I've always wanted 
to write. [Pleadingly.] You'll want to do that, 
won't you, Ruth? 

RvTH— [Dully.] There's Ma. 

Robert — She can come with us. 

Ruth — She wouldn't. 

Robert — [Angrily.] So that's your answer! [He 
trembles with violent passion. His voice is so strange 



182 BEYOND THE HORIZON 

that Ruth turns to look at him m alarm.^ You're 
lying, Ruth! Your mother's just an excuse. You 
want to stay here. You think that because Andy's 

coming back that \He chokes and has an attach 

of coughing.^ 

Ruth — {^Getting up — in a frightened voice. ^ 
What's the matter? \She goes to him.^ I'll go with' 
you, Rob. I don't care for Andy like you think.. 
Stop that coughing for goodness sake! It's awful 
bad for you. {She soothes him~ in dull tones.] I'll go 
with you to the city — soon's you're well again. 
Honest I will, Rob, I promise ! [Rob lies back and 
closes his eyes. She stands looking down at him 
anxiously.] Do you feel better now.'' 

Robert — Yes.' [Ruth goes back to her chair. 
After a 'pause he opens his eyes and sits up in his 
chair. His face is flushed and happy.] Then you will 
go, Ruth.? 

Ruth — Yes. 

Robert — [Excitedly.] We'll make a new start, 
Ruth — just you and I. Life owes us some happiness 
after what we've been through. [Vehemently.] It 
must ! Otherwise our suffering would be meaningless — 
and that is unthinkable. 

Ruth — [Worried by his excitement.] Yes, yes, 
of course, Rob, but you mustn't 

Robert — Oh, don't be afraid. I feel completely 
well, really I do — now that I can hope again. Oh 
if you knew how glorious it feels to have something 
to look forward to — not just a dream, but something 



I BEYOND THE HORIZON 133 

' tangible, something alread}^ within our grasp ! Can't 
you feel the thrill of it, too — the vision of a new life 
opening up after all the horrible years? 

Ruth — Yes, yes, but do be 

Robert — Nonsense! I won't be careful. I'm get- 
ting back all my strength. [He gets lightly to his 
feet.] See! I feel light as a feather. [He walks to 
her chair and bends down to kiss her smilingly.] One 
kiss — the first in years, isn't it? — to greet the dawn 
of a new life together. 

Ruth — [Submitting to his kiss — worriedly.] Sit 
down, Rob, for goodness' sake! 

Robert — [With tender obstinacy — stroking her 
hair] I won't sit down. You're silly to worry. [He 
rests one hand on the back of her chair.] Listen. All 
our suffering has been a test through which we had 
to pass to prove ourselves worthy of a finer realization. 
[Exultingly.] And we did pass through it! It hasn't 
broken us! And now the dream is to come true! 
Don't you see? 

Ruth — [Looking at him with frightened eyes as if 
she thought he had gone mad.] Yes, Rob, I see; but 
won't you go back to bed now and rest? 

Robert — No. I'm going to see the sun rise. It's 
an augury of good fortune. [He goes quickly to the 
mindow in the rear, left, and pushing the curtains 
aside, stands looking out. Ruth springs to her feet 
and comes quickly to the table, left, where she remains 
watching Robert in a tense, expectant attitude. As 
he peers out his body seems gradually to sag, to grow 



134 BEYOND THE HORIZON 

limp and tired. His voice is mournful as he speaJcs.\ 
No sun yet. It isn't time. All I can see is the black 
rim of the damned hills outlined against a creeping 
greyness. [He turns arownd; letting the curtains fall 
bacJc, stretching' a hand out to the wall to support 
himself. His false strength of a moment has evap^ 
orated leaving his face drawn and hollow eyed. He 
makes a pitiful attempt to smile.] That's not a very 
happy augur}^, is it? But the sun'll come — soon. 
[He sways weakly. ] 

Ruth — [Hurrying to his side and supporting him.] 
Please go to bed, won't you, Rob? You don't want 
to be all wore out when the specialist comes, do you? 

Robert — [Quickly.] No. That's right. He 
mustn't think I'm sicker than I am. And I feel as if 
I could sleep now — [Cheerfully.] — a good, sound, 
restful sleep. 

Ruth — [Helping him to the bedroom door.] 
That's what you need most. [They go inside. A 
moment later she reappears calling hack.] I'll shut 
this door so's you'll be quiet. [She closes the door and 
goes quickly to her mother and shakes her by the 
shoulder.] Ma! Ma! Wake up! 

Mes. Atkins — [Coming out of her sleep with a 
start.] Glory be! What's the matter with you? 

Ruth — It was Rob. He's just been talking to me 
out here. I put him back to bed. [Now that she is 
sure her mother is awake her fear passes and she re-- 
lapses into dull indifference. She sits down in her chair 



BEYOND THE HORIZON 135 

and stares at the stove — dully.] He acted — funny; 
and his eyes looked so — so wild like. 

Mrs. Atkins — [With asperity.] And is that all 
you woke me out of a sound sleep for, and scared me 
near out of my wits.? 

Ruth — I was afraid. He talked so crazy — staring 
out of the window as if he saw — something — and 
speaking about the hills, and wanting to see the sun 
rise — and all such notions. I couldn't quiet him. It 
was like he used to talk — only mad, kind of. I 
didn't want to be alone with him that way. Lord 
knows what he might do. 

Mrs. Atkins — [Scornfully.] Humph! A poor 
help I'd be to you and me not able to move a step! 
Why didn't you run and get Jake.? 

Ruth — [Dully.] Jake isn't here. I thought I'd 
told you. He quit last night. He hasn't been paid 
in three months. You can't blame him. 

Mrs. Atkins — [Indignantly.] No, I can't blame 
him when I come to think of it. What decent person'd 
want to work on a place like this? [With sudden 
exasperation.] Oh, I wish you'd never married that 
man! 

Ruth — [Wearily.] You oughtn't to talk about 
him now when he's sick in his bed. 

Mrs. Atkins — [Working herself into a fit of 
rage.] It's lucky for me and you, too, I took my 
part of the place out of his hands years ago. You 
know very well, Ruth Mayo, if it wasn't for me 
helpin' you on the sly out of my savin's, you'd both 



136 BEYOND THE HORIZON 

been in the poor house — and all 'count of his pig- 
headed pride in not lettin' Andy know the state thin's 
were in. A nice thing for me to have to support him 
out of what I'd saved for my last days — and me an 
invalid with no one to look to! 

Ruth — Andy'll pay you back, Ma. I can tell him 
so's Rob'll never know. 

Mes. Atkins — [With a snort.] What'd Rob think 
you and him was livin' on, I'd like to know.? 

Ruth — [Dulli/.] He didn't think about it, I s'pose. 
[After a slight pause.] He said he'd made up his i 
mind to ask Andy for help when he comes. [As a 
clock in the kitchen strikes six.] Six o'clock. Andy 
ought to get here directly. 

Mrs. Atkins — D'you think this special doctor'U do 
Rob any good.'' 

Ruth — [Hopelessly.] I don't know. [The two 
women remain silent for a time staring dejectedly at 
the stove.] 

Mes. Atkins — [Shivering irritably.] For good- 
ness' sake put some wood on that fire. I'm most 
freezin' ! 

Ruth — [Pointing to the door in the rear.] Don't 
talk so loud. Let him sleep if he can. [She gets 
wearily from the chair and puts a few pieces of wood 
in the stove. Then she tiptoes to the bedroom door 
and listens.] 

Mes. Atkins — [In a sharp whisper.] Is he 
sleepin' ^ 

Ruth — [Coming back.] I couldn't hear him move. 



BEYOND THE HORIZON 137 

,1 s'pose he is. [She puts another stick in the stove.] 
ii'This is the last of the wood in the pile. I don't know 
j'who'll cut more now that Jake's left. [She sighs and 
\ walks to the window in the rear, left, pulls the cur- 
tains aside, and looks out.] It's getting grey out. 
It'll be light soon and we can put out that lamp. [She 
comes back to the stove.] Looks like it'd be a nice day. 
[She stretches out her hands to warm them.] Must've 
been a heavy frost last night. We're paying for the 
spell of warm weather we've been having. [The 
throbbing whine of a motor sounds from\ the distance 
outside.] 

Mrs. Atkins — [Sharply.] S-h-h! Listen! Ain't 
that an auto I hear.^* 

Ruth — [Without interest.] Yes. It's Andy, I 
s'pose. 

Mrs. Atkins — [With nervous irritation.] Don't 
sit there like a silly goose. Look at the state of this 
room ! What'll this strange doctor think of us ,? Look 
at that lamp chimney all smoke! Gracious sakes, 
Ruth 

Ruth — [Indifferently.] I've got a lamp all cleaned 
up in the kitchen. 

Mrs. Atkins — [Peremptorily.] Wheel me in there 
this minute. I don't want him to see me looking a 
sight. I'll lay down in the room the other side. You 
i don't need me now and I'm dead for sleep. I'll have 
plenty of time to see Andy. [Ruth wheels her mother 
off right. The noise of the motor grows louder and 
fiTially ceases as the car stops on the road before the 



138 BEYOND THE HORIZON 

farmhouse. Ruth returns from the kitchen with a 1 
lighted lamp in her hand which she sets on the table . 
beside the other. The sound of footsteps on the path 
is heard — then a sharp rap on the door. Ruth goes 
and opens it. Andrew enters, followed by Doctor 
Fawcett carrying a small black bag. Andrew has 
changed greatly. His face seems to have grown high- 
strung, hardened by the look of decisiveness which < 
comes from being constantly under a strain where 
judgments on the spur of the moment are compelled 
to be accurate. His eyes are keener and more alerP. 
There is even a suggestion of ruthless cunning about 
them. At present, however, his expression is one of 
tense anxiety. Doctor Fawcett is a short, dark, 
middle-aged man with a Vandyke beard. He wears 
glasses.] 

Ruth — Hello, Andy ! I've been waiting 

Andrew — [Kissing her hastily.] I know. I got 
here as soon as I could. [He throws off his cap and 
heavy overcoat on the table, introducing Ruth and 
the Doctor as he does so. He is dressed in an expen- 
sive business suit and appears stouter.] My sister-in- 
law, Mrs. Mayo — Doctor Fawcett. [They bow to 
each other silently. Andrew casts a quick glance 
about the room.] Where's Rob.'' 

Ruth — [Pointing.] In there. 

Andrew — I'll take your coat and hat, Doctor. 
[As he helps the Doctor with his things.] Is he veryi 
bad, Ruth? 

Ruth — [Dully.] He's been getting weaker. 



I BEYOND THE HORIZON 139 

Anduew — Damn! This way, Doctor. Bring the 
IS lamp, Ruth. [He goes into the bedroom, followed hy 
the Doctor and Ruth carrying the clean lamp. 
Ruth reappears almost immediately closing the door 
behind her, and goes slowly to the outside door, which 
she opens, and stands in the doorway looking out. The 
sound of Andrew's and Robert's voices comes from 
the bedroom. A moment later Andrew re-enters, 
closing the door softly. He comes forward and sinks 
down on the rocker on the right of table, leaning his 
head on his hand. His face is drawn in a shocked 
expression of great grief. He sighs heavily, staring 
mornfully in front of him. Ruth turns and stands 
watching him. Then she shuts the door and returns 
to her chair by the stove, turning it so she can face 
himJ\ 

Andrew — [Glancing up quickly — in a harsh voice.] 
How long has this been going on? 

Ruth — You mean — how long has he been sick.'' 

Andrew — [Shortly.] Of course! What else.? 

Ruth — It was last summer he had a bad spell first, 
but he's been ailin' ever since Mary died — eight 
months ago. 

Andrew — [Harshly.] Why didn't you let me 
know — cable me? Do you want him to die, all of 
you? I'm damned if it doesn't look that way! [His 
voice breaking.] Poor old chap! To be sick in this 
out-of-the-way hole without an3'one to attend to him 
but a country quack ! It's a damned shame ! 



140 BEYOND THE HORIZON 

but he only got mad when I told him. He was too 
proud to ask anything, he said. 

Andrew — Proud? To ask me? [He jumps to his 
feet and paces nervously back and forth.] I can't 
understand the way you've acted. Didn't you see 
how sick he was getting? Couldn't you realize — 
why, I nearly dropped in my tracks when I saw him! 
He looks — [He shudders.] — terrible! [With fierce 
scorn.] I suppose you're so used to the idea of his 
being delicate that you took his sickness as a matter 
of course. God, If I'd only known ! 

Ruth — [Without emotion.] A letter takes so long 
to get where you were — and we couldn't afford to tele- 
graph. We owed everyone already, and I couldn't 
ask Ma. She'd been giving me money out of her 
savings for the last two years till she hadn't much 
left. Don't say anything to Rob about it. I never 
told him. He'd only be mad at me if he knew. But 
I had to, because — God knows how we'd have got on 
if I hadn't. 

Andrew — ^You mean to say [His eyes seem 

to take in the poverty-stricken appearance of the room 
for the -first time.] You sent that telegram to me 

collect. Was it because [Ruth nods silently. 

Andrew pounds on the table with his fist.] Good God! 
And all this time I've been — ^why I've had everything ! 
[He sits down in his chair and pulls it close to Ruth's 
— impulsively.] But — I can't get it through my 
head. Why? Why? What has happened? How did 
it ever come about? Tell me! 



BEYOND THE HORIZON 141 

Ruth — [Dullt/.] There's nothing much to tell. 
Things kept getting worse, that's all — and Rob didn't 
seem to care. 

Andrew — But hasn't he been working the farm? 

Ruth — He never took any interest since way back 
when your Ma died. After that he got men to take 
charge, and they nearly all cheated him — he couldn't 
tell — and left one after another. And then there'd be 
times when there was no one to see to it, when he'd be 
looking to hire someone new. And the hands wouldn't 
stay. It was hard to get them. They didn't want 
to work here, and as soon as they'd get a chance to 
work some other place they'd leave. Then after 
Mary died he didn't pay no heed to anything any 
more — ^just stayed indoors and took to reading books 
again. So I had to ask Ma if she wouldn't help us 
some. 

Andrew — [Surprised and horrified.] Why, damn 
it, this is frightful! Rob must be mad not to have 
let me know. Too proud to ask help of me! It's an 
insane idea ! It's crazy ! And for Rob, of all people, 
to feel that way! What's the matter with him in 
God's name.? He didn't appear to have changed 
when I was talking to him a second ago. He seemed 
the same old Rob — only very sick physically. [A sud- 
den, horrible suspicion entering his mind.] Ruth! 
Tell me the truth. His mind hasn't gone back on 
him, has it? 

Ruth — [DuUt^.] I don't know. Mary's dying 



142 BEYOND THE HORIZON 

broke him up terrible — but he's used to her being 
gone by this, I s'pose. 

Andrew — [Looking at her queerly.] Do you mean 
to say you're used to it? 

Ruth — [In a dead tone.] There's a time comes — 
when you don't mind any more — anything. 

Andrew — [Looks at her fixedly for a moment — 
with great pity.] I'm sorry I talked the way I did 
just now, Ruth — if I seemed to blame you. I didn't 

realize The sight of Rob lying in bed there, so 

gone to pieces — it made me furious at everyone. For- 
give me, Ruth. 

Ruth — There's nothing to forgive. It doesn't 
matter. 

Andrew — [Springing to his feet again and pacing 
up and down.] Thank God I came back before it was 
too late. This doctor will know exactly what to do 
to bring him back to health. That's the first thing to 
think of. When Rob's on his feet again we can get 
the farm working on a sound basis once more. I'll 
see to it so that you'll never have any more trouble — 
before I leave. 

Ruth — You're going away again? 

Andrew — Yes. Back to Argentine. I've got to. 

Ruth — You wrote Rob you was coming back to 
stay this time. 

Andrew — I expected to — until I got to New York. 
Then I learned certain facts that make it necessary. 
[With a short laugh.] To be candid, Ruth, I'm not 
the rich man you've probably been led to believe by 






BEYOND THE HORIZON 143 

my letters — not now. I was when I wrote them. I 
made money hand over fist as long as I stuck to legiti- 
mate trading; but I wasn't content with that. I 
wanted it to come easier, so like all the rest of the 
idiots, I tried speculation. It was funny, too. I'd 
always been dead set against that form of gambling 
before. I guess there's still enough of the farmer in 
me to make me feel squeemish about Wheat Pits. But 
I got into it just the same, and it seemed as if I 
never had a chance to get out. Oh, I won all right ! 
Several times I've been almost a millionaire — on paper 
— and then come down to earth again with a bump. 
Finally the strain was too much. I got disgusted 
with myself and made up my mind to get out and 
come home and forget it and really live again. I got 
out — with just a quarter of a million dollars more 
than I'd had when I landed there five years before. 
[He gives a harsh laugh.] And now comes the funny 
part. The day before the steamer sailed I saw what 
I thought was a chance to become a millionaire again. 
[He snaps his fingers.] That easy! I plunged. 
Then, before things broke, I left — I was so confident 
I couldn't be wrong — and I left explicit orders to 
friends. [Bitterly.] Friends! Well, maybe it wasn't 
their fault. A fool deserves what he gets. Anyway, 
when I landed in New York — I wired you I had busi- 
ness to wind up, didn't I.'' Well, it was the business 
that wound me up ! [He smiles grimly, pacing up 
and downy his hands in his pockets.] 



144 BEYOND THE HORIZON 

Ruth — [Dully.] You found — you'd lost every^ 
thing? 

Andrew — [Sitting down again.] Practically. [He 
takes a cigar from his pocket, bites the end off, and 
lights it.] Oh, I don't mean I'm dead broke. I've 
saved ten thousand from the wreckage, maybe twenty. 
But that's a poor showing for five years' hard work. 
That's why I'll have to go back. [Confidently.] I 
can make it up in a year or so down there — and 
I don't need but a shoestring to start with. [A 
weary expression comes over his face and he sighs 
heavily.] I wish I didn't have to. I'm sick of it all. 
And I'd made so many plans about converting this 
place into a real home for all of us, and a working 
proposition that'd pay big at the same time. [Ti^if/i 
another sigh.] It'll have to wait. 

Ruth — It's too bad — things seem to go wrong so. 

Andrew — [Shaking off his depression — briskly.] 
They might be much worse. There's enough left to 
fix the farm O. K. before I go. I won't leave 'til 
Rob's on his feet again. In the meantime I'll make 
things fly around here. [With satisfaction.] I need 
a rest, and the kind of rest I need is hard work in the 
open — just like I used to do in the old days. I'll 
organize things on a working basis and get a real man 
to carry out my plans while I'm away — ^what I in- 
tended to do the last time. [Stopping abruptly and 
lowering his voice cautiously.] Not a word to Rob 
about my losing money ! Remember that, Ruth ! You 



BEYOND THE HORIZON 145 

lean see why. If he's grown so touchy he'd never 
[accept a cent if he thought I was hard up; see? 

Ruth — Yes, Andy. [After a pause, during which 
lNDrew puffs at his cigar abstractedly, his mind evi- 
\dently busy with plans for the future, the bedroom 
moor is opened and Doctor Fawcett enters, carrying 
\a bag. He closes the door quietly behind him and 
\comes forward, a grave expression on his face. An- 
drew springs out of his chair.] 

Andrew — Ah, Doctor! [He pushes a chair between 
his own and Ruth's.] Won't you have a chair? 

Fawcett — [Glancing at his watch.] I must catch 
i the nine o'clock back to the city. It's imperative. I 
{have only a moment. [Sitting down and clearing his 
r throat — in a perfunctory, impersonal voice.] The 

. case of your brother, Mr. Mayo, is [He stops 

and glances at Ruth and says meaningly to An- 

: DREW.] Perhaps it would be better if you and I 

Ruth — [With dogged resentment.] I know what 
you mean. Doctor; but I'm not going. I'm his wife, 
and I've got a right to hear what you're going to 
say. [Dully.] Don't be afraid I can't stand it. I'm 
used to bearing trouble by this ; and I can guess 
what you've found out. Don't you s'pose I could see 
it staring out of his eyes at me these last days? [She 
hesitates for a moment — then continues in a monot- 
onous voice.] Rob's going to die. 
Andrew — [Angrily.] Ruth! 

Fawcett — [Raising his hand as if to command 
silence.] In view of what you have said, Mrs. Mayo, 



146 BEYOND THE HORIZON 

I see no reason to withhold the facts from you. [He 
turns to Andrew.] I am afraid my diagnosis of your 
brother's condition forces me to the same conclusion 
as Mrs. Mayo's. 

Andrew — [Groaning.] But Doctor, surely 

Fawcett — [Cahnli/.] I am concerned only with 
facts, my dear sir, and this is one of them. Your 
brother has not long to live — perhaps a few days, 
perhaps only a few hours. I would not dare to ven- 
ture a prediction on that score. It is a marvel that he 
is alive at this moment. My examination revealed 
that both of his lungs are terribly affected. A hemor- 
rhage, resulting from any exertion or merely through 
the unaided progress of the disease itself, will un- 
doubtedly prove fatal. 

Andrew — [Brokenly. 1 Good God! [IItjtu. keeps 
her eyes fixed on her lap in a trance-like stare.] 

Fawcett — I am sorry I have to tell you this, sorry 
my trip should prove to be of such little avail. If 
there was anything that could be done 

Andrew — There isn't anything? 

Fawcett — [Shaking his head.] I am afraid not. 
It is too late. Six months ago there might have 

Andrew — [In anguish.] But if we were to take 
him to the mountains — or to Arizona — or 

Fawcett — That might have prolonged his life six 

months ago. [Andrew groans.] But now [He 

shrugs his shoulders significantly.] I would only be 
raising a hope in you foredoomed to disappointment 
if I encouraged any belief that a change of air could 



BEYOND THE HORIZON 147 

accomplish the impossible. He could not make a 
journey. The excitement, the effort required, would 
inevitably bring on the end. 

Andrew — [Appalled hy a sudden thought.] Good 
heavens, you haven't told him this, have you, Doctor? 

Fawcett — No. I lied to him. I said a change of 
climate to the mountains, the desert would bring about 
a cure. [Perplexedly.] He laughed at that. He 
seemed to find it amusing for some reason or other. 
I am sure he knew I was lying. A clear foresight 
seems to come to people as near death as he is. [He 
sighs.] One feels foolish lying to them; and yet one 
feels one ought to do it, I don't know why. [He looks 
at his watch again nervously.] I must take my leave 
of you. It is really imperative that I take no risk of 
missing [He gets up.] 

Andrew — [Getting to his feet — insistently.] But 
there must still be a chance for him, isn't there, 
Doctor ? 

Fawcett — [As if he were reassuring a child.] 
There is always that last chance — the miracle. We 
doctors see it happen too often to disbelieve in it. 
[He puts on his hat and coat — bowing to Ruth.] 
Goodby, Mrs. Mayo. 

Ruth — [Without raising her eyes — didly.] Good- 
by. 

Andrew — [Mechanically.] I'll walk to the car with 
you. Doctor. [They go out the door. Ruth sits mo- 
tionlessly. The motor is heard starting and the noise 
gradually recedes into the distance. Andrew re- 



148 BEYOND THE HORIZON 

enters and sits down in his chair, holding his head in 
his hands.] Ruth ! [She lifts her eyes to his.] Hadn't 
we better go in and see him ? God ! I'm afraid to ! I 
know he'll read it in my face. {The bedroom door is 
noiselessly opened and Robert appears in the door- 
way. His cheeks are flushed with fever, and his eyes 
appear unusually large and brilliant. Andrew con- 
tinues with a groan.] It can't be, Ruth. It can't be 
as hopeless as he said. There's always a fighting 
chance. We'll take Rob to Arizona. He's got to get 
well. There must be a chance ! 

Robert — [In a gentle tone.] Why must there, 
Andy? [Ruth turns and stares at him with terrified 
eyes.] 

Andrew — [ Whirling around. ] Rob ! [Scoldi/ngly.] 
What are you doing out of bed.'' [He gets up and 
goes to him.] Get right back now and obey the Doc, 
or you're going to get a licking from me ! 

Robert — [Ignoring these remarks.] Help me over 
to the chair, please, Andy. 

Andrew — Like hell I will ! You're going right 
back to bed, that's where you're going, and stay 
there! [He takes hold of Robert's arm.] 

Robert — [Mockingly.] Stay there 'til I die, eh, 
Andy.? [Coldly.] Don't behave like a child. I'm 
sick of lying down. I'll be more rested sitting up. 
[As Andrew hesitates — violently.] I swear I'll get 
out of bed every time you put me there. You'll have 
to sit on my chest, and that wouldn't help my health 
any. Come on, Andy. Don't play the fool. I want 



BEYOND THE HORIZON 149 

to talk to you, and I'm going to. [With a grim 
smile.] A dying man has some rights, hasn't he? 

Andrew — [With a shudder.] Don't talk that way, 
for God's sake! I'll only let you sit down if you'll 
promise that. Remember. [He helps Rob to the 
chair between his own and Ruth's.] Easy now! 
There you are! Wait, and I'll get a pillow for you. 
[He goes into the bedroom. Robert looks at Ruth 
who shrinks away from him in terror. Robert smiles 
bitterly. Andrew comes back with the pillow which 
he places behind Robert's back.] How's that? 

Robert — [With an affectionate smile.] Fine! 
Thank you! [As A:kj)tlew sits down.] Listen, Andy, 
you've asked me not to talk — and I won't after I've 
made my position clear. [Slowly.] In the first place 
I know I'm dying. [Ruth bows her head and covers 
her face with her hands. She remains like this all 
during the scene between the two brothers.] 

Andrew — Rob ! That isn't so ! 

Robert — [Wearily.] It is so! Don't lie to me. It's 
useless and it irritates me. After Ruth put me to 
bed before you came, I saw it clearly for the first time, 
[Bitterly.] I'd been making plans for our future — 
Ruth's and mine — so it came hard at first — the realiza- 
tion. Then when the doctor examined me, I knew — 
although he tried to lie about it. And then to make 
sure I listened at the door to what he told you. So, for 
my sake, don't mock me with fairy tales about Ari- 
zona, or any such rot as that. Because I'm dying is 
no reason you should treat me as an imbecile or a 



150 BEYOND THE HORIZON 

coward. Now that Pm sure what's happening I can 
say Kismet to it with all my heart. It was only the 
silly uncertainty that hurt. [There is a pause. An- 
DBEw looks around in impotent anguish, not knoscing 
rchat to say. Robert regards him with an affectionate 
smile.] 

AxDKEw — [Finally blurts out.] It isn't foolish. 
You have got a chance. If you heard all the Doctor 
said that ought to prove it to you. 

Robert — Oh, you mean when he spoke of the pos- 
sibility of a miracle? [Dryly.] The Doctor and II 
disagree on that point. I don't believe in miracles- 
in my case. Beside I know more than any doctor in 
earth could know — because I feel what's coming. 
[Dismissing the subject.] But we've agreed not to 
talk of it. Tell me about yourself, Andy, and what 
you've done all these years. That's what I'm inter- 
ested in. Your letters were too brief and far apart 
to be illuminating. 

As'DREw — I meant to write oftener. 

Robert — [With a faint trace of irony.] I judge 
from them you've accomplished all you set out to do 
five years ago.' 

AxDREw — That isn't much to boast of. 

Robert — [Surprised.] Have you really, honestly 
reached that conclusion.^ 

Andrew — Well, it doesn't seem to amount to much 
now. 

Robert — But you're rich, aren't you? 



BEYOXD THE HORIZON" 151 

Andrew — [With a quick glance at Ruth.] Ye3, 

s'pose so. 

Robert — I'm glad. You can do to the farm all 

've undone. [With a smUe.] Do you know I was 

proud to ask vou for money when thing^s went 

here.^ You'll have to forgive me for that, Andy. 

AxDREw — I knew it wasn't like you to feel that 
way. 

Robert — But what did you do down there? Tell 
me. You went in the grain business with that friend 
of yours? 

AxDREw — Yes. After two years I had a share in 
it. I sold out last year. [He is answering Rob's 
questions with great reluctance.^ 

Robert — And then? 

Andrew — I went in on my own. 

Robert — ^Your own business? 

Andrew — I s'pose you'd call it that. 

Robert — Still in grain? 

Andrew — Yes. 

Robert — What's the matter? What's there to be 
ashamed of? You look as if I wa^ accusing you of 
crimes. 

Andrew — I'm proud enough of the first four 
years. It's after that I'm not boasting of. You see, 
I couldn't make money easy enough that way, so I 
took to speculating. 

Robert — In wheat? 

Andrew — Yes. 

Robert — And you made money — gambling? 



152 BEYOND THE HORIZON 

Andrew — Yes. 

Robert — I can't imagine you as the easy-come, . 
easy-go kind. 

Andrew — I'm not. I'm sick of it. 

Robert — [Thoughtfully.] I've been wondering 
what the great change was in you. I can see now. 
It's your eyes. There's an expression about them as 
if you were constantly waiting to hear a cannon go 
off, and wincing at the bang beforehand. 

Andrew — [GrimlT/.] I've felt just that way all 
the past year. 

Robert — [After a pause during which his eyes 
search Andrew's face.] Why haven't you ever mar- 
ried ? 

Andrew — Never wanted to. Didn't have time to 
think of it, I guess. 

Robert — [After a pause.] You — a farmer — to 
gamble in a wheat pit with scraps of paper. There's 
a spiritual significance in that picture, Andy. [He 
smiles bitterly.] I'm a failure, and Ruth's another — 
but we can both justly lay some of the blame for our 
stumbling on God. But you're the deepest-dyed 
failure of the three, Andy. You've spent eight years 
running away from yourself. Do you see what I 
mean.'* You used to be a creator when you loved the 
farm. You and life were in harmonious partnership. 

And now [He stops as if seeking vainly for 

words.] My brain is muddled. But part of what I 
mean is that your gambling with the thing you used 
to love to create proves how far astray you've gotten 



BEYOND THE HORIZON 153 

from the truth. So you'll be punished. You'll have 

to suffer to win back [His voice grows weaker 

and he sighs wearily.] It's no use. I can't say it. 
[He lies back and closes his eyes, breathing pant- 
ingly.] 

Andrew — [Slowly.] I think I know what you're 
driving at, Rob — and it's true, I guess. [Robert 
smiles gratefzdly and stretches out his hand, which 
Andrew takes in his.] 

Robert — I want you to promise me to do one 
thing, Andy, after — 

Andrew — I'll promise anything, as God is my 
Judge ! 

Robert — Remember, Andy, Ruth has suffered 
double her share, and you haven't suffered at all. 
[His voice faltering with weakness.] Only through 
contact with suffering, Andy, will you — awaken. '<''' 
Listen. You must marry Ruth — afterwards. 

Ruth — [With a cry.] Rob! [Robert lies back, 
his eyes closed, gasping heavily for breath.] 

Andrew — [Making signs to her to humor him — 
gently.] You're tired out, Rob. You shouldn't have 
talked so much. You better lie down and rest a 
while, don't you think.'' We can talk later on. 

Robert — [With a mocking smile.] Later on ! You 
always were an optimist, Andy! [He sighs with 
exhaustion.] Yes, I'll go and rest a while. [As An- 
drew comes to help him.] It must be near sunrise, 
isn't it.'' It's getting gi'ey out, 

Andrew — Yes — pretty near. It's after six. 



154 BEYOND THE HORIZON 

Robert — [As Andrew helps him to the bedroom.] 
Pull the bed around so it'll face the window, will you, 
Andy? I can't sleep, but I'll rest and forget if I can 
watch the rim of the hills and dream of what is 
waiting beyond. [They go into the bedroom.] And 
shut the door, Andy. I want to be alone. [Andrew 
reappears and shuts the door softly. He comes and 
sits down on his chair again, supporting his head on 
his hands. His face is drawn with the intensity of his 
dry-eyed anguish.] 

Ruth — [Glancing at him — fearfully.] He's out 
of his mind now, isn't he? 

Andrew — He may be a little delirious. The fever 
would do that. [With impotent rage.] God, what a 
shame ! And there's nothing we can do but sit and — ■ 
wait! [He springs from his chair and walks to the 
stove.] 

Ruth — [Dully.] He was talking — wild — like he ! 
used to — only this time it sounded — unnatural, don't 
you think .-^ 

Andrew — I don't know. The things he said to me 
had truth in them — even if he did talk them way up 

in the air, like he always sees things. Still 

[He glances down at Ruth keenly.] Why do you 
suppose he wanted us to promise we'd [Con- 
fusedly.] You know what he said. 

Ruth — [Didly.] His mind was wandering, I 
s'pose. m 

Andrew — [With conviction.] No — there was 
something back of it. 



BEYOND THE HORIZON 155 

Ruth — He wanted to make sure I'd be all right — 
after he'd gone, I expect. 

Andrew — No, it wasn't that. He knows very well 
I'd naturally look after you without — anything like 
that. 

Ri'Tii — He might be thinking of — something hap- 
pened five years back, the time you came home from 
the trip. 

Andrew — What happened? What do you mean? 

Ruth — [DuJly.] It was the day you came. We 
had a fight. 

Andrew — A fight? What has that to do with me? 

Ruth — It was about you — in a way. 

Andrew — [Amazed.] About me? 

Ruth — Yes, mostly. You see I'd found out I'd 
made a mistake about Rob soon after we were married 
— when it was too late. 

Andrew — Mistake? [Slowlt^.] You mean — you 
found out you didn't love Rob? 

Ruth — Yes. 

Andrew — Good God! 

Ruth — And then I thought that when Mary came 
it'd be different, and I'd love him ; but it didn't hap- 
pen that way. And I couldn't bear with his blunder- 
ing and book-reading — and I grew to hate him, 
almost. 

Andrew — Ruth ! 

Ruth — I couldn't help it. No woman could. It 
had to be because I loved someone else, I'd found out. 
[She sighs wearily.] It can't do no hami to tell you 



156 BEYOND THE HORIZON 

now — wlien it's all past and gone — and dead. You 
were tlie one I really loved — only I didn't come to tlie 
knowledge of it 'til too late. 

Andrew — [Stunved.] Ruth! Do you know what 
you're saying? 
\ Ruth — It was true — then. [With sudden fierce- 
7iess.] How could I help it? No woman could. 

Andrew — Then — you loved me — that time I came 
home ? 

Ruth — Yes. 

Andrew — But — couldn't you see — I didn't love 3'ou 
— that way? 

Ruth — [Doggedly.] Yes — I saw then; but I'd 
known your real reason for leaving home the first 
time — everybody knew it — and for three years I'd 
been thinking 

Andrew — That I loved you? 

Ruth — Yes. Then that day on the hill you 
laughed about what a fool you'd been for loving me 
once — and I knew it was all over. 

Andrew — Good God, but I never thought 

[He stops, shuddering at his remembrance.] And did 
Rob 

Ruth — That was what I'd started to tell. We'd 
had a fight just before you came and I got crazy mad 
— and I told him all I've told you. 

Andrew — [Gaping at her speechlessly for a mo- 
ment.] You told Rob — 3'^ou loved me? 

Ruth — Yes. 

Andrew — [Shrinking away from her in horror.] 



BEYOND THE HORIZON 157 

You — you — you mad fool, you! How could you do 
such a thing? 

Ruth — I couldn't help it. I'd got to the end of 
bearing things — without talking. 

Andrew — And the thought of the child — his child 
and yours — couldn't keep your mouth shut? 

Ruth — I was crazy mad at him — when I told. 

Andrew — Then Rob must have known every mo- 
ment I sta^^ed here ! And yet he never said or showed 
— God, how he must have suffered ! Didn't you know 
how much he loved you? 

Ruth — [Dulli/.] Yes. I knew he liked me. 

Andrew — Liked you! How can you talk in that 
cold tone — now — when he's dying! What kind of a 
woman are you? I'd never believe it was in you to 

be so Couldn't you have kept silent — no matter 

what you felt or thought? Did you have to torture 
him? No wonder he's dying. I don't see how he's 
lived through it as long as he has. I couldn't. No. 
I'd have killed myself — or killed you. 

Ruth — [Dull2/.] I wish he had — killed me. 

Andrew — And you've lived together for five years 
with this horrible secret between you? 

Ruth — We've lived in the same house — not as man 
and wife. 

Andrew — But what does he feel about it now? 
Tell me ! Does he still think 

Ruth — I don't know. We've never spoke a word 
about it since that day. Maybe, from the way he 



158 BEYOND THE HORIZON 

went on, he s'poses I care for you yet. Maybe that's 
one reason he said what he did. 

Andrew — But you don't. You can't. It's out- 
rageous. It's stupid! You don't love me! 

Ruth — [Slowly.] I wouldn't know how to feel 
loA'e, even if I tried, any more. 

Andrew — [Brutallt/.] And I don't love you, that's 
sure ! [He sinks into his chair, his head between his 
hands.] It's damnable such a thing should be between 
Rob and me — we that have been pals ever since we 
were born, almost. Why, I love Rob better'n any- 
body in the world and always did. There isn't a 
thing on God's green earth I wouldn't have done to 
keep trouble away from him. And now I have to be 
the very one — it's damnable ! How am I going to face 
him again.'* What can I say to him now.'' [He 
groans with anguished rage. After a pause.] He 
asked me to promise — ^what am I going to do."* 

Ruth — You can promise — so's it'll ease his mind 
— and not mean anything. 

Andrew — What.? Lie to him now — when he's 
dying.'' Can you believe I'd descend as low as that? 
And there's no sense in my lying. He knows I don't 
love you. [Determinedly.] No! It's ^/o^^. who'll have 
to do the lying, since it must be done. Y^ou're the 
cause of all this. You've got to! Y'^ou've got a 
chance now to undo some of all the suffering you've 
brought on Rob. Go in to him ! Tell him you never 
loved me — it was all a mistake. Tell him you only 
said so because you were mad and didn't know what 



BEYOND THE HORIZON 159 

you were saying, and you've been ashamed to own up 
to the truth before this. Tell him something, any- 
thing, that'll bring him peace and make him believe 
3'ou've loved him all the time. 

Ruth — [Dully.] It's no good. He wouldn't be- 
lieve mc. 

Andrew — [Furiously.] You've got to make him 
believe you, do you hear? You've got to — now — 
hurry — you never know when it may be too late. [As 
she hesitates — imploringly.] For God's sake, Ruth! 
Don't you see you owe it to him.'' You'll never for- 
give yourself if you don't. 

Ruth — [Dully.] I'll go. [She gets wearily to 
her feet and walks slowly toward the bedroom.] But 
it won't do any good. [Andrew's eyes are fixed on 
her anxiously. She opens the door and steps inside 
the room. She remains standing there for a minute. 
The she calls in a frightened voice.] Rob ! Where are 
you.'* [Then she hurries bacJc, trembling with fright.] 
Andy! Andy! He's gone! 

Andrew — [Misunderstanding her — his face pale 
with dread.] He's not 

Ruth — [Interrupting him — hysterically.] He's 
gone! He isn't in there. The bed's empty. The 
window's wide open. He must have crawled out into 
the yard! 

Andrew — [Springing to his feet. He rushes into 
the bedroom and returns immediately with an expres- 
sion of alarmed amazement on his face.] Come! He 



160 BEYOND THE HORIZON 

can't have gone far ! We've got to find him! [Grab- 
hlng his hat he takes Ruth's arm and shoves her J 
toward the door.] Come on! [Opening the door.] 

Let's hope to God [The door closes behind theviy 

cutting off his words as 

[The Curtain Falls] 



ACT THREE 

SCENE TWO 

Scene — Same as Act One, Scene One — A section of 
country highway. The sly to the east is already 
alight with bright color and a thin, quivering 
line of flame is spreading slowly along the 
horizon rim of the dark hills. The roadside, how- 
ever, is still steeped in the greyness of the dawn, 
shadowy and vague. The field in the foreground 
has a wild uncultivated appearance as if it had 
been allowed to remain fallow the preceeding 
summer. Parts of the snaJce-fence in the rear 
have been broJcen down. The apple tree is leafless 
and seems dead. 

Robert staggers weakly in from the left. He 
stumbles into the ditch and lies there for a mo- 
ment; then crawls with a great effort to the top 
of the bank where he can see the sun rise, and 
collapses weakly. Ruth and Andrew come 
hurriedly along the road from the left. 

Andrew — [Stopping and looking about him.] 
There he is ! I knew it ! I knew we'd find him here. 
Robert — [Trying to raise himself to a sitting 
161 



162 BEYOND THE HORIZON 

position as they hasten to his side — with a wan smile.] 
I thought I'd given you the slip. 

Andrew — [With hindly bullying.] Well yo^i 
didn't, you old scoundrel, and we're going to take 
you right back where j'ou belong — in bed. [He 
makes a motion to lift Robert.] What d'3'ou mean 
by running away like this, eh? 

Robert — Don't, Andy. Don't, I tell you ! I can't 
bear it! 

Andrew — You're in pain? 

Robert — [Simply.] No. I'm dying. [He falls 
back weakly. Ruth sinks down beside him with a sob 
and pillows his head on her lap.] Don't try to move 
me, Andy. It would mean . I had a bad hemor- 
rhage — trying to get here. I knew then — it was 
only — a few minutes more. [Andrew stands looking 
down at him helplessly. Robert moves his head rest- 
lessly on Ruth's lap.] There! Just so I can see — 
the sun. I couldn't stand it back there in the room. 
It seemed as if all my life — I'd been cooped in a room. 
So I thought I'd try to end as I might have — if I'd 
had the courage to live my dream. Alone — in a ditch 
by the open road — watching the sun rise. 

Andrew — Rob ! Don't talk. You're wasting your 
strength. Rest a while and then we'll carry you 

Robert — Still hoping, Andy? Don't. I know. 
[There is a pause during which he breathes heavily y 
straining his eyes toward the horizon.] The sun comes 
so slowly. I haven't long — to wait. [ With an ironical 
smile,] The doctor told me to go to the far-off places 



BEYOND THE HORIZON 163 

— and I'd be cured. He was right. That was always 
the cure for me. It's too late — for this world — but 
in the next I'll not miss — the secret. [He has a fit of 
coughing which racks his bod?/.] 

Andrew — [With a hoarse sob.] Rob! [He 
clenches his fists in an impotent rage against fate.] 
God! God! [Ruth sobs brolcenly and wipes 
Robert's lips with her handkerchief .] 

Robert — [In a voice which is suddenly ringing 
with the happiness of hope.] You mustn't feel sorry 
for me. It's ridiculous ! Don't you see I'm happy 
at last — because I'm making a start to the far-off 
places — free — free! — freed from the fami^ — free to 
wander on and on — eternally! Even the hills are 
powerless to shut me in now. [He raises himself on his 
elbow, his face radiant, and points to the horizon.] 
Look ! Isn't it beautiful bcj^ond the hills? I can hear 

the old voices calling me to come [Exultantly.] 

And this time I'm going — I'm free ! It isn't the end. 
It's a free beginning — the start of my voyage ! Don't 
you see? I've won to my trip — the right of release — 
be^'^ond the horizon ! Oh, you ought to be glad — 
glad — for my sake! [He collapses weakly.] Andy! 
[Andrew bends down to him.] Remember Ruth 

Andrew — I'll take care of her, I swear to you, 
Rob! 

Robert — Ruth has suffered — and for your own 
sake and hers — remember, Andy — only through sacri- 
fice — the secret beyond there [He suddenly 

raises himself with his last remaining strength and 



164 BEYOND THE HORIZON 

points to the horizon where the edge of the sun's disc 
is rising from the rim of the hills.] The sun! [He 
remains with his eyes fixed on it for a moment. A 
rattling noise throbs from his throat. He mumbles-'] 
Remember ! [And falls back and is still. Ruth gives 
a cry of horror and springs to her feet, shuddering, 
her hands over her eyes. Andrew bends on one knee 
beside the body, placing a hand over Robeet's hearty 
then he kisses his brother reverentially an the fore- 
head and stands up.] 

Andrew — [Facing Ruth, the body between them 
— in a dead voice.] He's dead. [With a sudden 
burst of fury.] God damn j^ou, you never told him ! 

Ruth — [Piteously.] He was so happy without my 
lying to him, 

Andrew — [Pointing to the body — trembling with 
the violence of his rage.] This is your doing, you 
damn woman, you coward, you murderess ! He's dead 
because you've killed him, do you hear ? 

Ruth — [Sobbing.] Don't, Andy! Stop! I 
couldn't help it — and he knew how I'd suffered, too. 
He told you — ^to remember. 

Andrew — [Stares at her for a moment, his rage 
ebbing away, an expression of deep pity gradually 
coming over his face. Then he glances down at his 
brother and speaks brokenly in a compassionate 
voice. ] Forgive me, Ruth — for his sake. I know he^ 
was right — and I'll remember what he said [Ruth 
lets her hands fall from her face and looks at him 
uncomprehendingly. He lifts his eyes to hers and 



BEYOND THE HORIZON 165 

forces out falteringly:\ I — you — we've both made 
such a mess of things ! We must try to help each 
other — and — in time — we'll come to know what's right 

to do [Desperately. \ And perhaps we 

[But Ruth, if she is aware of his words, gives no sign. 
She remains silent, gazing at him dully with the sad 
humility of exhaustion, her mind already sinking back 
into that spent calm beyond the further troubling of 
any hope.] 

[The Curtain Falls\ 



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